


The Rains

by Ladyoftarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Completed, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyoftarth/pseuds/Ladyoftarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rains force Brienne into the apartment of Jaime Lannister.  A man she's not particularly fond of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne stood on the platform, her hair soaked through and sticking to her face.  She was surrounded by drenched miserable looking commuters.  It wasn't yet the evening rush and the station was already packed. The rains had pushed all the usual side-walk pedestrians down into the subway.  Brienne leaned her back flat against one of the tunnel walls- far away from the yellow line.  She remembered her nanny Roelle scaring her with stories about dangerous men who liked to push little girls into oncoming trains.  Brienne shivered at the thought.  The old woman's creepy tales never seemed to leave her. Nanny Roelle was long gone, back to whatever eastern European country she came from.  And Brienne was a big girl now.  As more people flooded into the station, she pressed herself against the wall as the platform began to fill.

Brienne reached into her pocket to find her blue iPod.  It was old, scratched and usually needed a restart every other day, but she could not seem to find it within herself to replace it.  _He_ had given it to her- a present that had once been filled with "their songs".  He and those old songs were long gone. She hit “shuffle” and hoped for the best. Brienne closed her eyes and waited for the train as Tracy Chapman's "Give Me One Reason" helped her forget about the crowd growing all around her.

Within a minute a shrieking screech of the wheels announced the coming train.  A whoosh of hot funneled air blew across her face.  Once stopped, umbrellas, soggy newspapers, and miserable looking people all made their way on to the subway cars.

Brienne found a seat near the back of the car.  As more people pushed onto the train, she noticed a pregnant lady holding her stomach looking around wearily.  Brienne stood from her seat and offered it to the woman. 

"Thank you so much." She smiled gratefully as she sat down.

Brienne nodded and grabbed the handrail; the train suddenly jerked sending all the people standing forward and then back quickly as it pulled away. The jolting movement caused Brienne to shift her footing and as she did she stepped on the shoe of a man sitting in front of her.

He cried out.

"Sorry," Brienne mumbled an apology, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"Do I know you?" the man asked.

Brienne reluctantly turned her gaze to his. _No_.  She thought. _Not him_.

A smirk broke across his face, opening into a full smile to reveal perfectly formed white teeth. "I believe you were at my cousin Lancel's party.  Could not possibly forget you!"

Brienne gritted her teeth.  She knew she was freakishly tall. It was an attribute that most couldn't resist pointing out. Her height served her well on the court but was a bane in most other aspects of her life.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Brienne nodded her head, and looked up to the tunnel maps, counting the stops until her station. She knew him all right _.  Jaime Lannister.  Everyone knows who you are_. He had a reputation for being a rich boy, freeloader, who despite coming from money, took on a full tennis scholarship--one that should have gone to her friend Loras.  Brienne pushed thoughts of her former best friend away. 

"This is my stop," Brienne said half smiling.  It wasn't, but she was beginning to feel claustrophobic.  Lannister seemed chatty, and she was in no mood to exchange small talk.

Jaime answered, "Mine too."

Brienne cursed silently as the sound of the train signaled their stop.

She was forced to maintain the ruse, as he followed her off the car, then up the stairs. The rain was coming down hard, showing no signs of respite.

"Well then, goodbye," Brienne said politely, walking away briskly, not giving him a chance to respond.

She smiled as luck was finally on her side; a cab was available at the curb. She ran to it, opened the door, and gave directions to the driver. 

"What?" the man said gruffly, turning slightly to hear her better. As he swerved around, Brienne could see that half of his face was scarred; it looked to be burns of some kind.  She opened her mouth to repeat her address when suddenly someone thrust open the cab door.

Jaime Lannister ignored her protests and instead ordered the cab driver to his intended destination.

"All right, pal, you're closer.  You first," the cab driver said as he pulled the gear shift.

"Excuse me? What do you think you are doing?" Brienne huffed.

"I'm catching a ride home," Jaime answered as he brushed the droplets from his leather jacket.

Brienne crossed her arms and leaned back into her seat.  The sounds of the wipers and the static of the cab driver’s radio announcements the only thing breaking the silence in the cab.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Jaime spoke.  "You seem chilly."

"Of course not," Brienne answered curtly.  To be fair he had done nothing to her.  "It's just been a long day."

"You know, I've seen you play." He smiled at her.

Brienne looked at him briefly before allowing herself to give him a small smile in response.  She could feel a traitorous blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She tried to ignore how hot she had suddenly become.  Volleyball was the one of the few things she was good at, and one of the few "safe" subjects she felt talking about. She focused on that fact, as she tried to avoid staring too long at his green glinting eyes and broad smile.

"Sorry, folks. You have to get out."

"What!?" she and Jaime said at the same time.

"Streets are flooded all the way up to Ninth. You have to get out."

"Well, go around it!" Jaime said annoyed.

"There is no going around it!" the cab driver shouted back at them. "Now get the fuck out of my cab!"

"There goes your tip." Jaime threw a ten at the cabbie. It smacked him against his scarred face.

"Get out asshole, before I pull you and your ugly girlfriend out myself."

She was used to the insults.  Yet his words  made her flinch.  Somehow it stung worse having them said aloud in front of the beautiful man sitting next to her. Brienne threw open her door and escaped the cab.  

The rain fell down upon her in a torrent.  She could barely keep her eyes open as the wind whipped the water at her eyes. Her apartment was easily twenty blocks away. Brienne laughed despite herself. A guffaw that surprised her.  It was a release, a surrender to the shitty day that just kept getting worse.

Jaime looked at her amused.

She waved him away and started walking north.

"Hey wait!" he shouted after her.

Brienne stopped.

"Come with me.  My apartment is just a couple of blocks west."

Brienne looked at the street before her, a river of newspapers, cigarettes and fast-food wrappers came flooding towards her. The water was already at her ankles.  _Twenty blocks is a long way._

 

 

Jaime's apartment was much smaller than she anticipated.  It was a walk-up on the third floor.  Not exactly what she expected for the son of Tywin Lannister.

"My lady." He mocked a bow and beckoned her forward.

Brienne rolled her eyes and moved into the small narrow hall.  He flipped up a light switch, and almost immediately the light flickered, then went dead.

 _This is a mistake._ Brienne thought. "I'm fine. I'm going. Thank you. Very kind of you. Goodbye." Brienne turned and opened the door. She flew down the stairs, as she reached the first floor her feet landed in a pool of water almost up to her calves.  Brienne stepped back and looked up to find Jaime smirking down at her.

Brienne sighed and made the long climb back up to his floor.  She would have to stay the night.

 

Jaime uncorked a bottle that looked like it belonged in Dungeons and Dragons. He turned to reach into the freezer, grabbing a handful of ice cubes. "Don't want all this ice to go to waste."

"Don't you have beer or something?" Brienne asked.

"Just try it." He handed her a glass.

Brienne sniffed the liquor, pulling her head back slightly at the strong boozy smell. She took a small sip.  It was sweeter than she had anticipated. Only a few small sips and she could already feel her muscles relaxing.

"If you'd like, you can use the shower. I can give you a change of clothes." 

"No thank you."

He grabbed something hanging from a hook by the door and shoved it into her hand: a green flannel shirt.

Brienne arched her eyebrow. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"You're soaked through. What do you think? Here take it."

Brienne took the clothing from him and sat it on the couch next to her. She finished her drink and asked for another.

 

Brienne was on her third glass of Jaime's dragon liquor before she conceded that maybe a shower would be welcomed. The alcohol had her feeling decidedly more relaxed and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Jaime was working at his fourth glass.  He rose to collect more ice from the freezer. 

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked him.

"Like I said, wouldn't want all this ice to go to waste." He grinned as he reached into grab a handful.

"Don't you have anything to mix this with?" Brienne scrunched up her nose. 

Jaime opened the fridge, "I've soy milk and cold leftover pizza."

"Pass." She sighed as she looked out the window.  "It’s really not that bad on its own anyway."

"I would hope not. It's a twenty-thousand dollar bottle of cognac."

Brienne coughed mid gulp. _He would brag about his wealth..._

"Gift from my father." Jaime did not look all that affectionate when he spoke of his dad.

The rain had not slowed. It slammed against the window in loud sleets. The light outside was growing dim.  It appeared that power on the whole block was dead. "You better find some flashlights or candles. It's going to get dark fast," Brienne cautioned.

Jaime set his glass down on the counter as he rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers. "Ah!” He pressed the flashlight under his chin and grinned at her." He looked like a ridiculously handsome joker.

Perhaps it was the booze, but she felt a small smile coming to her lips.

"You should change," Jaime said motioning to the shirt she had placed beside her. Brienne nodded, giving in to his offer. 

"I'll find you something else for your legs." Jaime left the kitchen to make his way down the narrow hallway to what she supposed was his bedroom.

She could hear him opening drawers searching in the dark.  _The fool left his flashlight on the counter._  Brienne's eyes scanned his apartment.  It was sparsely furnished and there was not much to look at.  She rose from the couch to stretch her legs and made her way over to a shelf holding a few books, board games, and a single framed photo. The frame looked expensive. It was a picture of Jaime and another man--a little person.  There wasn't much of a resemblance, Jaime had his arms wrapped around the man's shoulders, their heads pressed close together. Both were laughing.  They looked happy, like they were lost in some great joke.

"Tyrion, my brother," Jaime said pointing his glass towards the frame.

Brienne jumped slightly, recovering somewhat she was able to stutter out, "You both seem close. It must be nice to have a sibling."

"Only child?" he asked as he handed her a pair of grey sweat pants.

"Yes.  My mother died in child birth.  My father remarried. Several times in fact, but he never had any more children."

"My mother died giving birth to Tyrion. Dad never remarried," Jaime said. Suddenly his green eyes seemed distant.

"That's terrible. I'm sorry." The words felt lame coming from her lips, but they were the expected comforts, the words everyone said.

"Cersei always blamed him for her death," he said quietly, like he was revealing some great secret. "My sister."

"Oh, you have a sister too?"

"Twin in fact."

"She must be beautiful," Brienne said before she could stop the words from flying out of her mouth.

Jaime smirked at her.

 _Perhaps he will have the decency to ignore that_. Brienne thought hopefully, already feeling her face growing hot.

"You think me beautiful, do you?" He arched an eyebrow, shaking the ice in his drink as he brought it to his mouth. His tongue popped out briefly to lick his lips before taking a drink.

Brienne stuttered and stumbled with her words.  She was failing miserably at making a coherent reply.

Finally he took mercy on her and changed the subject. "You're lucky. There is hot water.  You're welcome to take a shower if you'd like. Just to your right after you get into the bedroom."

"Thank you," she mumbled as she pressed passed him, her ears still burning with her embarrassment.

 

She didn't realize she was still holding her drink until she went to reach for the door knob of his bathroom.  She rested the glass in the crook of her arm, turned the knob, and went in. Pressing her back against the closed door, finally alone, she threw her head back, shut her eyes, and finished the contents of her glass.

When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a sorry and sad reflection.  Her thin hair was limply splayed across her cheeks in wet tendrils.  Her eye makeup had run.  She looked like a semi-drowned racoon. Brienne groaned, lamenting that she even cared how Jaime Lannister saw her.

"You think me beautiful?" She mocked his insipid tone as she turned on the taps in the bath. "Pompous ass," she muttered as she stepped out of her wet clothes.  They landed with a heavy wet thump on the tile floor. 

Stepping into the shower, she sighed with relief.  The warm water coursed over her cold skin, relaxing her muscles. She leaned her head back, enjoying the feeling of her blood warming, and the chill leaving her.  She always felt odd using other people’s shampoos and soaps.  Men usually favoured things that would make them smell like pine trees or shoe leather.  Fortunately the only bottle in the shower was a two-in-one combo of Head & Shoulders shampoo and body wash.  "Good at least he has dandruff."

 

Out of the shower and dripping all over the small floor mat she realized she had forgotten to ask for a towel.  Spying a small closet door she opened it hoping to find one. On the second shelf several large cream coloured towels were neatly folded. Grabbing one she wrapped it around her.  She was about to close the door when she noticed several gift wrapped packages on the top shelf.

"It's none of my business," she muttered as her hand reached up to inspect one.

The paper was thick and embossed, good quality. Superfluous bows garnished the top, along with a small white tag trimmed with gold. Brienne carefully flipped the tag over to read the message scrawled in delicate black letters. _To Jaime, my sweet -  Love, Cersei_. "That seems overly affectionate," Brienne said to herself as she reached for another.  This one was decorated in Christmas paper, midnight blue, covered in silver snowflakes.  The tag read... _Jaime, missing you at Christmas. All my love - Cersei._ "There must be a dozen in here."  All of them from her _._ Brienne put the gift-wrapped packages back in the order she had found them. Pushing her curiosity aside, she reminded herself again, _it's none of my business._

She toweled off her hair and stepped into the clothes Jaime had offered her.  The green plaid shirt fit her well enough. It was only a little tight in the shoulders.  She rolled up the bottoms of the sweat pants to her calves, making the shortened height seem intentional. Grabbing her empty glass and wet clothes, she made her way back to him.

 

"Hungry?" Jaime asked as she came back into his small living room. He offered her a slice of cold pizza. He too had changed out of his wet clothes. Now he was wearing a thin white t-shirt, and crimson-red sweatpants: their school colours.

"Thanks." She took the pizza gratefully.  Her stomach was growling and she needed to eat something to sop up the alcohol she had been drinking. "What is this?" She asked noticing a small candle, and the elaborate bottle of cognac sitting next to a Scrabble board on the coffee table.

"I thought it might help pass the time.  I don't think you're getting out of here any time soon."

Brienne loved Scrabble, almost as much as she loved volleyball. There weren't many who could beat her. _He is a dead man_. She took a bite of her pizza and shrugged.  "I'm not sure.... it's been a while..."

 

"Kingslayer is not a word!" she yelled at him.

"I believe it is: one who kills a king. I'm certain of it," he answered back with unflappable confidence.

 _He is wrong_.  She was sick of having the “look it up” argument with him.  Both their phones were dead, and the dolt didn't even own a dictionary.

"Seriously how can you not have a dictionary?" She hoped if she asked one more time he would somehow remember where one was stashed away.

"Brienne, nobody owns a dictionary.  We have this thing called the Internet."

" _That_ is _not_ a word." She pointed at his made up word.

"It is and I'm out of tiles! Adding up my score. Let's see, adding fifty-eight points on top of my two-hundred and thirty-eight, subtract your left over's. Oh yes, you've been thoroughly thrashed, I'm afraid." He grinned at her mischievously.

"Let me see that." Brienne lunged over the table to grab the score pad from his hand. Her knee hit the board and sent the tiles flying. She ignored it and continued to reach for the score sheet. Jaime laughed, seemingly amused with her passion.  He used his other hand to press against her shoulder, keeping her at bay.

"Stop being childish. Give me the score sheet!" Brienne said exasperated.

"Me? I'm the child?  You're the one who upset the board!"

" _That_ is not a word!" Brienne reaffirmed. She felt foolish getting so worked up over a board game, but she knew she had won. She glared at him, hoping he could feel the heat of her anger.

"My god your eyes are beautiful," Jaime whispered as he held her in place.

Brienne felt the fight go out of her too bewildered and shocked by his words.  She searched his face for sincerity.  His green eyes flickered over her blue ones.  She could feel her pulse quickening, her breath betraying her sudden panic. He gripped her shoulder tighter, pulling on the green shirt. Pulling her in towards him. 

 _What is happening?_   she thought as his mouth met hers. Brienne closed her eyes and opened her lips. His tongue was warm, wet, and wonderful.  Her head swam as his hand moved behind her neck, pulling her in closer, pressing her body to his.  Both of them were on their knees. Hands searching under each other's clothes _.  This is madness_ , Brienne thought.  _This isn't happening_.  _His type does not make out with girls like me_.  Suddenly she became fearful of the predicament she found herself in.  She knew _of_ Jaime Lannister, but she really didn't know him at all, not really.  He had brought her to his apartment and plied her with alcohol; she had no cell reception; no one knew where she was...

"Just so you know, I have a black belt in jujitsu." she gasped as she pulled away from him.

"Me too. So don't try anything funny." He grinned as he pressed his lips to her neck. He worked his way to the spot beneath her ear, gently biting on her lobe, before taking it in his mouth.  His breath tickled and sent shivers down her back.  She leaned her head back, her fears pushed away by the pleasure of feeling his hot breath moving his way down her neck towards her collarbone.

Jaime worked at the buttons of her shirt. "This is so weirdly hot."

"What?" She stiffened readying herself for his scrutiny.

"You in my clothes."

"You are such a narcissist."  She continued to kiss him back, hard and reckless.  _He feels so good_. _Fuck everything.  The morning is for regrets,_ Brienne thought as she shivered at the touch of his hand against the bare flesh of her back.  Just a gentle brush of his fingers was enough to make her gasp.

He pulled her free of the shirt she was wearing with a quick pull.  Brienne suddenly felt self-conscious.  Even she knew there was not much there for a man to enjoy.  Brienne covered herself, as Jaime held her firmly and guided her to the floor.  Once on her back, he kissed her mouth again, and the more his kisses persisted, the more she longed to feel his skin against hers.  Removing her arms from the embrace she held upon herself she rolled up the bottom of his t-shirt.  Jaime sat up briefly to help her remove the article of clothing.  Brienne was greeted with an impossibly chiselled form, lit by golden candle light.  His hair glowed like a halo; his green eyes were dark with desire.

 _I can't believe this is happening,_ she thought _. He can't possibly want me..._

Jaime looped his thumbs into the top of his pants and pulled down. He was fully erect.

_Well, there is no denying that..._

Jaime gave her a small crooked smile as he watched her watch him.  "Hold on a moment," he whispered.

Brienne's eyes felt as though they were magnetized to his naked form as he rose from the floor. _He is perfection.  There is no other word for it..._

Jaime shuffled at a drawer in the kitchen. He smiled as he held up a single condom.

"You keep condoms in the kitchen?" she asked.

Jaime held the little gold package up and squinted at it.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she tried to cover herself with the shirt she had somehow managed to retrieve.

"Looking for an expiration date," he grumbled.

_Surely he's joking..._

Seemingly pleased by the date he found, he smiled at her, and returned to where she sat on his rug.

Jaime joined her on the floor.  Taking the shirt from her, putting it to the side, he rested his hand on her leg, slowly caressing her flesh, making his way higher towards her inner thigh.  Brienne let out a choking sound, not realizing she was holding her breath. He leaned his face towards her, delivering more of those sweet kisses, distracting her from his hand. 

Brienne's heart raced, and her hips rocked upwards her body betraying her want for his fingers.  She shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him, massaging her, and drowning her in kisses.  She wanted to cry out, feeling her pleasure about to spill over.  In that moment she could have cursed him, as he took his hand away.  Jaime rolled on top of her. His naked body was warm and wanting.

She could feel his hardness press into her thigh. She reached down and her finger tips gripped his erection he let out a low groan.

"I want you. Tell me you want me." he said pulling away from her slightly.

Brienne looked at him with confusion. _How can he be asking me that? Who wouldn't want him?_ He seemed to be serious.  He looked at her like she could break him if she denied him.

"I want you." The words were bold ones, and she was half terrified saying them, realizing just how true they were as she spoke them.

He kissed her hard upon the mouth, searching for her tongue. It left her struggling for breath. She didn't care; she yearned for more.

She gasped, and her eyes sprung open, then tightened as he entered her.  Brienne bit her lip and threw her head back, enjoying every inch of him.  She wrapped her legs behind him as he thrust into her.  Each press of his cock sent currents of pleasure through her body. 

"Your nails feel so good," Jaime rasped as she felt his hair against her cheek--golden tendrils that brushed rhythmically with each thrust into her. Brienne hadn't even realized she had scratched him.  He thrust in deeper and her nails bit into his skin harder.

Brienne's fingers reached between her legs. It only took a few hard circular presses.  Blissfully his mouth found hers again, hot wet kisses that made her dizzy as she felt her orgasm surge through every limb.  She moaned into his open mouth and he swallowed each of her cries.  Jaime rose up, pressed away from her briefly, and delivered one final thrust into her. He fell upon her spent, a great exhale of breath against her neck made her quiver.

 _It really happened.  This really happened,_ Brienne thought stunned as a sweaty, gasping Jaime Lannister lay on top of her.  Brienne held him in an embrace; she rubbed his back, hoping she hadn't made a mess of his skin with her nails.   She brought her hand up to the back of his neck, caressing at the nape, feeling his golden curls beneath her finger tips.  She didn't know how long they lay like that: Jaime on top of her, she gently caressing him.  Gathering himself somewhat, Jaime rolled away from her to retrieve the discarded green flannel shirt he had lent her.

Brienne felt a brief moment of sadness, realizing it was over. 

"I don't want you to get cold," Jaime said as he covered her with the shirt.  Brienne felt an intense wave of relief as he curled up next to her again, his head finding a space in the crook of her shoulder.  He reached for her hand, and placed it at the spot behind his head. "This may sound odd.  But could you do that thing with your hand again?"

 _If I was a braver woman I might reply, “only if you promise to do the same,”_ Brienne thought as she happily rubbed at the back of his neck. She slightly turned her face towards his, her cheek resting on crown of his head.

"How the hell did you get so good at Scrabble anyway?" she asked him in the dark.

Jaime laughed a bit. "Tyrion.  He loved it.  Made me play with him constantly. Cers... no one else ever would..."

Brienne cleared her throat, suddenly feeling guilty with the stash of gifts from his sister she had found in the bathroom.  "I saw all her gifts in your closet," Brienne confessed with a whisper.

There was a shift in the room.  They had been in a golden warm place, but now suddenly it felt cold.  Jaime stiffened then sat up.

Brienne rose from the floor, lamenting she had said anything. He sat with his back to her unmoving. Brienne pulled her arms through the shirt he had given her. In silence she buttoned it up.  Jaime reached for his pants. Pulling them on, he stepped away from her and back into the kitchen.  Turning on the tap, he poured himself a glass of water.

"I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have been snooping."

"No, you shouldn't have," he growled at her.

Brienne swallowed, surprised by his anger.  The room was silent again, save for the sounds of the winds and rain slashing at the windows. "I said I was sorry," she apologized again.

"You can have the bed." Jaime gestured towards the hallway. 

Brienne waited until he turned to put his glass into the sink, before scrambling into her discarded grey sweat pants.  She walked down the hall, confused by his reaction. She cursed herself for being so stupid.  She could feel the threat of tears brimming at her eyes. She closed the bedroom door behind her with a slam and fell upon his bed.  Brienne curled up alone beneath his blankets.  Her face buried into his pillow.  She wanted to cry.  She refused to cry.  He had been her first since Renly...

A choking cry burst from her lips. The sound blessedly swallowed up by the thick pillow she clung to. She was thankfully too tired to allow herself to wallow for too long in his rejection.  The events of the day coupled with the sounds of the rain lulled her to sleep.

 

She awoke to a woman yelling.

"He's leaving me!"

"How did you get here? What do you mean he's leaving you?" Jaime's voice echoed down the hall.

"That son of a bitch!  I put up with his philandering all these years! Looking like one of those pathetic idiot dish rag wives who stands by their cheating scum-bag husbands! Two fucking terms, Jaime! I put up with it through two fucking terms!" The woman continued on her tirade, while it sounded like Jaime tried to interject. 

Brienne came down the hall and cleared her throat.  There was no escaping.  His apartment was so small.  She would have been happy to duck out, leaving him with her wet clothes, but she needed her bag and it was under his coffee table.

"Who the fuck is this?" the woman asked startled by Brienne's interruption. The two of them standing beside each other, there was no doubting who _she_ was. Her golden hair was collected in an effortless but elaborate braid.  She wore tall expensive looking black heeled boots, and a long navy coat tied at the waist.  She stared at Brienne as if she had just witnessed a horrible car wreck.

"Cersei, this is Brienne," Jaime introduced them.

Cersei gathered herself somewhat and put on her best “politician’s wife smile.” She reached her hand out to shake Brienne's.

"Nice to meet you."

"Thank you.  You as well.  But I really should be going."

"I could make you a coffee at least.  The power came back on," Jaime offered as he immediately scrambled to the kitchen.

"No, no.  I've inconvenienced you long enough. I really should get home." Brienne went to grab her bag from under the coffee table.

"It's no problem," Jaime offered again.

"Jaime, she said she had to go.  Leave her be," Cersei answered for her. "Again, so nice to meet you."

Brienne nodded at Cersei and gave a weak wave to Jaime as she fled his apartment.

She had made it the landing when she heard him call down to her "Hold on!"

Brienne stood and waited as he jogged down the stairs towards her.

"Here.  I charged it for you early this morning." He pressed her cell phone into her palm.

"Thank you, that was thoughtful."

"You can keep those," he said gesturing towards his clothes.  The ones she was still wearing.

Brienne laughed despite the awkward situation she found herself in. "I'm sorry.  I forgot. Thank you."

"I put my number in there. Call me."

"Sure," Brienne answered. Knowing she never would.

He stared at her, like he wanted to say something.

"Jaime!" his sister called down from his apartment.

"I better go," he said.

"Bye." Brienne turned to leave.

Brienne had made it a block and a half when her cell phone, still gripped in her hand vibrated. A text message that read, _I need to see you again._

Brienne chuckled as she realized he added himself to her contacts as "Kingslayer".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little more of Jaime's past, and why he's so infatuated with the giant blonde 'Tarth Girl'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All these events take place before chapter 1. There is a lot of time-jumping and back-story in this chapter. I hope its not too confusing.

The grunt that rang out in the gym was not lady-like. It was fierce and forceful, and it stopped Jaime mid-text. “Who is that one?” Jaime elbowed Addam.

Addam looked up from his own phone. “Oh, they call her Brienne the Beauty.”

“She’s quite good.”

“Mmm.” Addam seemed uninterested with the game.

Jaime swivelled his tennis racket in his palm, eyes transfixed to the large muscular woman decimating her competition. No one could return her spikes. “She should be playing the men. This is almost unfair.”

“Maybe we should just hoof it?”Addam answered back lazily.

Jaime looked to the windows set high above the gym walls. The dark grey skies looked menacing. To go out now would mean a drenching.  They had taken solace in the gymnasium when it had become clear the rains would not allow them continue their game.

The women playing volleyball paid little to no attention as they settled into the bleachers. The scrapes of their sneakers and occasional yelping rang out and bounced off the cinder block walls.

The tall, sweaty, pale blonde smashed another ball into her opponent’s court, a whistle sounded, followed by congratulatory high fives.

“Let’s wait a minute, see if the storm lets up.”

Addam nodded, his eyes never leaving the glow of his cell phone.  Addam had been his friend since they were boys. The son of a work associate of his father’s, Addam was the _only_ friend he had growing up. Even now he was the only one Jaime would allow to see how poorly he now played.  Jaime looked down at the wrist of his right hand. With his left thumb he caressed the ugly raised pink scar; it was surrounded by eight circles where the pins had held his bones together.  He was fortunate to have lived through the accident with no real threat to his life, but the damage had been severe enough and his career was over before it had began.

Jaime narrowed his eyes.  She was at her peak; it was clear none of them were her equal. “I’ve changed my mind lets go.” He grumbled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later he saw her again at Lancel’s pre-wedding party.  He recognized her by her height; she was easily the tallest woman he had ever laid eyes upon and her neck and shoulders were thick with muscle. She was much uglier closer up.  Clad in some faux-material masquerading as silk, the sad pink dress did her no favors.

“I’m amazed her boyfriend would let her leave the house in that,” Mark scoffed under his breath as he slightly nodded his head towards the large woman.

“Boyfriend?” Jaime asked curious.

The man gave a gleeful and knowing smirk “Renly Baratheon.”

Jaime couldn't help but laugh.

“Ridiculous, I know. You want in?” Mark asked.

“In what?”

“We’ve got a wager going.”

“What kind of wager?” Jaime enjoyed betting as much as the next man.

“Hyle and a few others have a bet going on how far we can get with the Tarth chick.”

“With her boyfriend here?”

“Renly’s been absent all night, probably sucking someone off in the bathroom.  This party’s a bore. Gotta make your own fun, ya know?” Mark held up a finger, “One point for a dance, and two for a peck on the cheek, three if you get any tongue. Major marks if you can feel her tits, providing you can find them.” Mark chuckled as he sloshed his drink in his glass, spilling some onto the floor. “If you lay her, you win it all, regardless of points.”

“You are twisted fucks. You know that?” Jaime finished the whisky in his glass before leaving Mark alone on the patio. He had stayed for a polite and appropriate amount of time.  Cersei had yet to show up, and he was hoping to avoid her.

Tomorrow was the wedding and he was seriously considering coming down with something that would keep him bedridden for the day.

Jaime grabbed his coat as he observed the Tarth girl being led on to the dance floor by some dolt, no doubt a contender in the bets.  A group of young men could be seen cajoling each other and snarking at the scene playing out before them.

“Assholes,” Jaime muttered as he pushed passed them. He stood on the front porch and contemplated a cigarette.  He’d quit a few years ago, his coach had insisted.

A very fine looking redhead leaned against the railing a puff of smoke escaping her lips.  She was all curves and sly smiles as she caught him staring.

 _Screw it,_ he thought. He needn’t worry about the state of his lungs anymore. “You have another?” he asked.

The woman reached into her purse, a shiny metallic number. From her clutch she pulled out her pack of cigarettes and offered him one.

 _Menthols,_ he cursed. “Thanks.”

Long lacquered red nails covered the flame of her lighter, protecting it from the winds as he lit up.  

Jaime inhaled and as the minty cool smoke hit the back of his throat, his nerves calmed, and muscles relaxed almost instantly.  Exhaling slowly he savoured the feeling before bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

“Been a while?” The woman smiled, red lips on a pale perfect face.

“A couple of years.”

“And why are you here tonight?”

“My cousin, he’s the groom.”

“Oh, you’re a Lannister?” she asked, her accent was foreign, he couldn’t quite place it.

“You don’t know?”

“Should I?”

Jaime bit his lip and grinned.   _That was arrogant._ “You?”

“I came with Stannis Baratheon, I’m his campaign manager.” The woman sucked in her cigarette and exhaled into the air. “Know him?”

 _Know him?_ Jaime’s smile disappeared. “He’s my brother-in-law’s eldest brother.”

“Ah, you’re the black sheep. Jaime, right?” the woman cooed.

Jaime had tired of the conversation. “Thanks for the cigarette.” He brushed past her and headed down the stairs.

“Be careful. It’s dark out there!” she called out to him.

 

Jaime strolled down the path and through the parking lot.  A silver Audi parked next to his red Ferrari was shaking.  He could see two shadowy figures in the backseat.  The windows were lined with a thin mist; one of them briefly left an imprint on the window with a single hand before disappearing back inside. He remotely unlocked his car hoping the sound would clue in the couple to his presence.  Whoever was in there seemed to care little, and the shaking of the vehicle continued.

 _Well, at least someone is having fun_ … Jaime sat in his car, shut the door, and turned on the radio.  He needed to sober up.

 _Everybody plays the fool…_ Jaime leaned back and listened to the sad lyrics accompanied by overly cheerful flutes and xylophones. He wished for another cigarette.  Flipping up the lid of the compartment where he rested his arm, he searched for gum.  He was going to miss having a car.  It was going back to the dealer next week.  His father had cut him off. Jaime had already sold his apartment and he was growing tired of sharing a place with Addam. Too many invitations to head out and look for “honeys.” He knew he needed to find a place of his own. Letting the car go was proving to be more difficult.

A black, slick, pretentious limo rolled up to the veranda. Jaime _knew_ who it was before it even parked.  The door opened, and Senator Robert Baratheon jumped out with a jovial grin, waving to the red lady still on the porch.  Jaime ignored the fat politician and instead focused on the other side of the vehicle, where the driver was opening the door.  He wanted to look away; he knew he should look away, but he couldn’t.

Cersei's popped her head up over the door.  Her hair was piled up high on her head and delicate jewels dangled from her earlobes and neck.  She was dressed in a fitted vibrant green dress: designer, expensive _, perfect_. She smoothed out the fabric of her dress, sliding her long manicured fingers down her hips.

Jaime started the car deciding he was sober enough to drive after all.

As he pulled out he noticed a figure exiting the Audi next to him.  It was the youngest Baratheon brother, walking a few paces ahead of some pretty boy with a mop of curls. The pretty boy grabbed Renly’s hand, pulling him beside the trunk of a tree for one last kiss before they returned to the party.

As Jaime turned the wheel, his headlights illuminated the tall blonde briefly. It was only for a few seconds, but the expression chiselled on her face made it clear she’d seen the same thing he had.  Jaime watched in his rear view mirror as she stormed towards a car, her horrible pink dress flapping with each long stride.

Renly did not pursue her. The pretty boy with the mass of hair did.  The Tarth girl jumped into an old blue hatch back. Her tires shrieked as she reversed, almost clipping the pretty boy.

Jaime waited a heartbeat as he decided whether or not he should follow her. “Fuck me,” he muttered as he pulled the gear shift into drive.  

She was whipping out of the lane.

Jaime followed.

 

She ran a few yellows, and by default, he ran a few reds.

“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered as he tried to keep pace with her.

The small blue car slowed onto a narrow street, then she turned right into an underground parking garage and the car disappeared inside.

Jaime felt foolish.  He was on the other side of town, parked outside some stranger’s apartment building, watching a garage door close, separating him from the woman he’d been chasing for the last thirty minutes _. Harrenhal Towers_ was scrolled in brass across the concrete marker at the front.

A startling knock on his window woke him from his stupor.

“Can’t park here, asshole. Cabs only.” Even from behind the window the voice was clear and booming.

Jaime waved his hand in apology and pulled away from the curb.

The GPS on his phone took him down closed streets and one-ways.  Frustrated, he tossed the thing onto his passenger seat and tried his best to find a main street he recognized.  He fared no better on his own and soon was crawling down a street under construction, he ignored the ‘through traffic only’ sign and drove forward. A cluster of tall old Victorians that had been renovated into apartments. A FOR RENT sign was staked in the lawn that was more mud than grass.   _What a dump_ , Jaime thought as he retrieved his phone from the seat. He punched in the number on the sign to call in the morning.   _I can probably afford it._

 

 

* * *

 

The third time he saw her was when he was in line at the coffee shop.

He was standing beside a chalk board sign with the words “The City’s Best Coffee!” a bold announcement surrounded by colourful flowers and hearts. _This place should be sued for that proclamation._  He hated coming to this spot, but the coffee was cheap.  

He gave the barista the $1.50 for his coffee and made himself comfortable at a table by the window. He spotted her across the street, sitting on a park bench. There was no mistaking the giant blonde. She was chewing on a sandwich, reading a book.  He couldn’t make the title out, but it looked to be some weathered well-loved thing.  Jaime removed the lid from his coffee and blew at the tendrils of steam. He sipped gingerly at the hot beverage and watched her.

After a few moments passed, she put her book down and rose suddenly from her spot.

A child was pulling her away. Jaime craned his neck to follow her as they disappeared briefly behind a fence.  The child was pointing up at a tree. He had lost some kind of toy. Jaime peered up to the branches, he could see a neon boomerang-Frisbee thing.

Jaime watched with some amusement as the woman reached up into the branches and pulled herself into its boughs.  Close to half a minute passed as he waited for her to reappear through the rustling leaves, finally she threw the toy down to the jumping boy, who clapped his hands excitedly.  Jaime couldn’t help but smile, a fleeting grin that disappeared as he noticed a man making for the woman’s bench where she had left her book, lunch, and purse unattended.

Jaime rose, almost yelling like an idiot from his seat. The woman charged after the man as he rushed away with her bag.  She caught him easily. Jaime’s mouth dropped open as the woman throttled the man’s throat with her open palm.  She flipped him down to the ground, holding his arm at a painful looking angle, pressing her knee to his back.  She kept the man pinned while she rummaged through her recovered purse and dialed what he assumed was 911.

Jaime watched the scene for as long as he could.  Soon spectators from the sidewalk blocked his view.  Jaime gathered his now lukewarm coffee and headed outside to see how she was faring.  The wail of a siren rounded the corner ahead – the cop would have no problem finding the culprit.  A massive crowd had formed.  As the police snapped cuffs on the criminal, applause broke out amongst them.  The woman looked as if she wanted to sink into the ground.  Her already red and splotchy face deepened with the embarrassment.  The cop yelled at them to ‘move it along,’ and returned to the park to gather information for his report.

Jaime threw his cup of coffee into the garbage and decided to go see about that apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The light flickered on with protest, a dim yellow bulb through milky glass. The landlord shrugged. “It’s vintage.” He stood in the center of the room, pointing at the kitchen area, a single arm’s length away, he said, “Kitchen.” Pointing down the hall, he continued the poor excuse for a tour, “Bedroom, bathroom attached, on the right.”

Jaime rubbed at the scruff of his chin. The entirety of this apartment was smaller than his boyhood bedroom.

Despite the size, it was a bike able distance to the subway line, an annoying fact that carried weight now that he lacked a car. The asking price was too good to pass up.

He looked out the window, a familiar towering apartment could be seen in the near distance. “I’ll take it.”

 

* * *

 

The first box he unpacked contained books that still looked new. He shelved them and reached back into the box pulling out a silver frame.  He had packed the box a year ago, and forgotten about the picture. His brothers’ laughing face greeted him. A happier time... before everything turned to shit....

 

* * *

 

 

“Jaime, he saw us!”

“I know!”

“He _saw_ us,”

Jaime smashed his hand on the steering wheel. “I said _I know_!”

Cersei tightened her lips, her face held in an expression of disdain. She flashed her green eyes at him.

He knew what she was thinking. _What are you going to do?_ “He’s our brother. I can talk to him.”

“You’re an _idiot_.  He’s been waiting for this day. He’s going to tell Father and he’s going to take it all.”

“So let him have it! I don’t give a fuck about the inheritance.” _Inheritance_ , even the word felt like a bitter taste in his mouth.  “We can leave, find somewhere new, where no one knows us. Europe maybe?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m marrying Robert,”

Jaime gritted his teeth, and pressed hard on the pedal.

Cersei seemed unfazed by the acceleration. ”We need to get to him before he talks.”

“He probably already has,”

“No. We’d know. There’s still time.”

“Time for what?”

She didn’t answer him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” After a slight pause she added, “Like I do everything.”

Jaime felt his limbs stiffen and go cold. _She wouldn’t_.  But he knew.   _She would_.  He’d be a fool to think she wouldn’t. Memories of a little girl found floating in an abandoned well haunted him.

Jaime increased his speed, accelerating to a point until he finally elicited a reaction from her.

“Jaime! Slow down!”

In response he pressed down harder.

They whipped past a car.

“You’re going to get us killed!” Cersei exclaimed.

“Promise me that you’ll leave Tyrion alone.”

Cersei crossed her arms and glared straight ahead, ignoring his plea.

Jaime slammed on the breaks. The car bit into the gravel and slid down the side of the road. They spun, almost completely turning around. Cersei braced herself arms straight, palms on the dash. Her thick golden hair covered her face as she leaned forward.  She was breathing heavily. Dust swirled around the windows, blocking out the pink light left from the sun that had just set over the horizon.

He’d hoped to scare her into complying; instead she threw her head back and laughed, a sparkling unbridled laugh. It unnerved him. She chuckled a little more before turning her face towards him, her chin pressed against one smooth bare shoulder. “You done?”

Jaime could have strangled her then. Instead he shoved open his door and stepped out.  He looked down the winding road, quiet and desolate – he contemplated walking down it, away from her. They were miles away from the nearest town.  He could just leave. Keep walking and never look back to the fuckery that was his life.

“What are you doing? Get back in the car.” She sounded impatient. Jaime couldn’t look at her, he knew if he did he was lost. “Jaime please.” Her voice was calm, soothing, pleading. “Come on, let’s not fight. We can fix this.”

He looked.

She was reaching out for him with her hand, beckoning him to return to her. The golden pink sky was clear now, free of the dust of the road.  Her hair illuminated by the sunset behind her.

_Why? Why must this be the woman I love?_

Her face was the last clear thing he remembered; the rest was all painful fragmented memories.

 

 

A scream. Cersei was screaming his name.

The pavement bit into his cheek, it irritated him, but all she could yell about was his arm.  He couldn’t even feel it…

Jaime closed his eyes. He awoke to find himself in the passenger seat.

There was blood running down his shirt, his legs, _so much blood… it’s getting all over my seats._

“Jaime, don’t pass out again OK? Jaime…”

He woke up screaming. His hand burned and a pulsing, slicing agony shot up his arm. His hand lay limp on his lap; he was flayed open, his fingers askew and foreign looking. He could barely tell what digit belonged where. “What the fuck happened?”

Cersei’s answered calmly, “I told you.  You were hit by a car.  I’m taking you to a hospital. We’re almost there. Stay awake. Tell me a story.  Talk to me. Tell me about the time you jumped the cliffs at…”

 

“We may have to amputate. The damage is significant,” another woman was saying. Her words awoke him.

“No!” he shouted in a frantic panic. “Don’t take my hand. Cersei! Don’t let them.”

 

 

When he awoke he was in a hospital, not the one Cersei had brought him to, from what he could remember, that place had been a small crumbling community hospital out in butt-shit nowhere.

The private room he now found himself resting was clean, slick, and new. It reeked of Tywin Lannister’s money.  Jaime attempted to reach for the call button on the bed; he gritted his teeth as a shocking ache shot up his right arm. There was a cast, bandaged and elevated. It was still there.  His head throbbed and his breaths came in shallow stabbing pains.

A nurse came in with the click of the door.  

Seeing him awake she gave him a pretty smile. “Oh, good morning, handsome. How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” Jaime replied caustically.

The nurse ignored him as she looked at his monitors.  “Your sister should be back soon, and there is a man your father sent to see you when you awoke. He’s out in the lobby.  I’ll go get him.”

“Where is my doctor?” Jaime asked, wanting to prolong having to see his father’s man out in the lobby.  He had a suspicion it was Mr. Pycelle, his father’s butler and personal assistant.  Both he and Cersei had cared little for the old man. Jaime would occasionally catch him leering at her tits.

“He’ll be in soon. Do you want to see your friend now or after?”

“After.”

Jaime waited for almost an hour before his doctor came to his room. He was a dark little man with a wrinkled face. “Hello, I’m Dr. Qyburn, your surgeon,” he smiled pleasantly.

“How bad is it?”

“You are quite lucky Mr. Lannister.  The damage was extensive. You suffered a complete break of your right ulna, and I’m afraid many nerves and vessels were severed in your hand. I had to do major repair on almost all your fingers. You will require several other surgeries, there is a good chance you will have functional use of your hand again, however I cannot guarantee to what degree. It’s important you understand you will have years of physical and occupational therapy ahead of you.”  The doctor delivered the news succinctly which Jaime appreciated.

Jaime knew the answer, but had to ask, “Will I be able to play tennis competitively again?”

“I suspect not. I’m sorry. The nurse will have further instructions for you, and we’ll set up appointments for your other surgeries.” Qyburn drummed his fingers on his chart before giving a tight grin and then leaving Jaime alone once more.

Jaime focused on the light from the window. The trees were full and green, blocking the bright light of the sun, creating gentle shadows dancing upon the floor of his room.  It looked to be a glorious warm day out there. The cheery sun seemed unfair and cruel.

He recognized the sound of Cersei’s heels clacking down the hall.

Her voice spoke to someone outside his door, “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

“Jaime, it’s good to see you awake.  I heard the doctor spoke with you.”

So formal a greeting from his sweet sister

Mr. Pycelle entered, smothering a cough into his hand.

“Father asked that we call him when you came to.”

“How touching,” Jaime responded.

Pycelle fiddled with his iPad.  Jaime couldn’t guess at the exorbitant amount of training the man must have had to endure in becoming capable enough to use it. Even so he cursed as he dragged his fingers over the screen, unable to make the call he wanted.

“I’m here, Pycelle,” came the irritated voice of Tywin Lannister. “Let me speak with my son.”

With shaky hands Pycelle held up the device.

Tywin Lannister was at his desk, a sparkling city sky line twinkled behind him.  

“Late at the office again I see,” Jaime said conversationally.

“I’ve heard the news of your hand.  When you’ve healed you will come tutor beneath me, as you should have years ago. We can now put this nonsense of you playing tennis behind us.”

Jaime shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt that his father would see his injuries as opportunity to groom him to be his successor to Lannister Enterprises. He shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt, but he was.

Jaime suppressed the urge to violently answer back and instead replied, “No thank you. I’ve had it in my mind to take up philosophy,” choosing the one area of study he knew would irritate his father the most.

The only hint of displeasure his father showed was a slight tightening of his lips.  

“Tyrion is so much better suited to that life.  Leave me alone, I will never have the desire to sit at a desk for sixteen hours a day, too busy to visit my eldest son as he lies in a hospital bed.”

“Has your sister not told you?” Tywin asked.

“Told me what?”

“Tyrion was found yesterday evening in a hotel room, dead from a  heart attack. Drugs. The hooker he was with called it in.” His father paused briefly before adding, “It’s foolish to try and speak sense to you now. I will call again tomorrow.” The screen went black.

The monitor next to Jaime started to beep quicker, a high pitched chirping sound that splintered at his head.  He looked to Cersei. She had seated herself in a chair. Stiff backed and hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Pycelle, you may leave us,” she said dismissively.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Pycelle promised in a graveled voice before leaving the room.

“Close the door,” Cersei commanded.  The old man had always been good at taking orders from her too.

“Turn that thing off.” Jaime said nodding towards the machine.

Cersei moved to do as he ask.  

When she was close enough, he grabbed her with his left hand, ignoring the screaming pain shooting up his left arm and side. “What have you done?” he demanded, searching her eyes for the truth.

“Jaime, you’re hurting me,” she answered back angrily.

He gripped her tighter. “Tell me the truth.  Did you do it?”

“Of course not.  Five grams of coke did it. You knew he had a problem. Now let me go.”

Jaime appraised her face one last time.  Her eyes, so much like his, revealed nothing. The beeping of the monitor gave away his emotion. Jaime let her go.  He felt dizzy and nauseous.

The click of the door opening made Cersei take a step back from him.

The same nurse  who tended to him earlier was oblivious to the tension in the room and blathered on--words he didn’t hear.  His head was a fog of pain, grief and bewildered unfocused rage. All of it dissolved and lessened when the nurse gave him an injection.

“There that should do it for a bit,” she said before hurrying out to complete her rounds.

The beeping was slow and steady again. Bearable.

“I should be going, I’m flying out in the morning and have so much packing to do.  I’ve brought you something.” Cersei crossed the room, pulling a small blue package out of her purse. She set it down on the rolling tray before him.

Jaime sleepily looked at the package, his eyes heavy and closing, he could feel warm tears making their way down his cheeks.  With what strength he had left he used his good arm to fling the gift to the floor. Cersei sighed and left the room, her heels clicking away from him, until there was nothing. Unable to fight the relief of a drug-induced sleep, Jaime closed his eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to Commasplice for beta reading, and not gloating too, too much that I'm writing a mod au....
> 
> Thanks to all of the overwhelming comments from chapter 1. Chapter 2 would not have happened if not for the demands for more! *cough-hint-hint-cough-cough*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Jaime's early childhood and some surprising news.

He had not meant to wander so far into the woods, but one tree needed climbing; there were small frogs to catch, and rotted apples to throw  down the old well he’d found. Each wormy apple he threw delivered satisfying ‘thunk’ noises as they smashed into the water below. It wasn’t until the sun had started to set beyond the russet tree line that he realized he had stayed out far too long.

He ran, pumping his legs until his lungs burned.  He knew it was pointless; he had missed his lessons, but somehow making his way back slowly to the manor would only make it worse.

 It was when he recognized his father’s shiny black car in the driveway that he knew he was in for it.

 “Jaime,” Tywin said in a low voice as he carefully placed his gold pen upon the desk.

 His father saying his name was not an invitation to speak. Jaime stood straight-backed, readying himself for the reprimands he knew were coming.  

 “I’ve been informed you missed your lessons again this afternoon.” Tywin Lannister said disapprovingly, his eyes never leaving the paper on this desk as he marked and scratched at it with his pen. “This neglect of your duties will not be suffered lightly.  You are my son, and I have certain expectations of you.”

 Jaime knew not to look away during these lectures.  

 The last time he’d made the mistake of being distracted, he’d lost Cersei. They’d been out swimming in the pond as they had done for nearly every dad that summer.  The nanny would shake her head when they’d come back with wet clothes and mussed hair. She would lament that they had, “a perfectly good pool.” What the pool lacked was a surrounding of willow trees, with long leafy tendrils they could swing off of.  They would break, and with rails of giggles he and his sister would splash into the cool waters below.

 It was on one of those afternoons that Jaime had not only missed his lessons, but he had allowed himself to be distracted by a fly bopping its head against a window pane. He wasn’t sure how long his father had stopped with his speech before he realized the thick silence of the room.  When he did look back to his father, Tywin Lannister said nothing, rose from his desk and left him alone. The next morning Cersei was gone. “An unnecessary distraction he could do without.”

Ever since, Jaime knew to pay attention.

“If I hear you’ve missed another lesson--if you are so much as a minute late there will be consequences.”  

 _Send Tyrion away?  He is just a baby…_ Although his little brother was not very interesting, spending most of his short waking hours chewing on things and spitting up on himself, the thought still made Jaime sad.

 “I have it in my mind to keep Cersei at Genna’s this holiday,” Tywin said.

“You can’t do that!” The protest was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Worse, he had spoken in a childish whine, a tone he knew his father despised.

 Tywin leveled a stern gaze at him.

 Jaime bit his lip.

 “One more word and I will instruct your aunt to keep her. Now go to your lessons.  I’ve paid Mr. Tarly to stay late.”

 Jaime did as his father ordered, slowly climbing the grand stairs towards the library.  Outside what remained of the sun’s light had scarcely touched the horizon. His stomach growled, but he dared not complain.  He had angered his father enough. Some of the trees outside were bare.  Autumn was ending and thoughts that Cersei would be home soon kept him content to obey his father's stern rules. With his head down, he made his way towards the library and his dreaded math tutor.

 

Twelve days before Christmas, Cersei came home. Jaime watched her arrival from the foyer window.  She was bundled up in a crimson coat, white hat, and gloves.  She hated mittens. Mr. Pycelle struggled with the luggage in the trunk while Cersei stood in place, her breath visible in the frigid air.  Mr. Pycelle opened the other door and a small girl with dark hair popped out.  Her freckled face craned upwards as she took in the facade of Casterly Manor.  Jaime could read her lips forming the word ‘wow,’ before she joined Cersei. Smiling they linked arms and made their way to the house.  

 Jaime quickly became annoyed with Cersei’s friend. Melara took up so much of his sister’s time, and they giggled over stupid things, quips and jokes he didn’t understand.

 It wasn’t until the third day at breakfast did he began to accept her presence in their lives.

Cersei had ignored Tyrion. Whenever the nanny brought him into the room, Cersei would make a point in leaving, dragging Melara off with her, but on the third day Melara resisted.  

 “May I hold him?” she asked the nanny.

 Jaime watched as Cersei’s head snapped up from her raspberry jam and toast towards the girl, her lips drawn tight, and eyes disapproving.

 Melara ignored or didn’t notice Cersei’s expression and went to where the nanny was sitting with Tyrion.  A small blabbering bundle, small arms reaching for hair.

 “Sure, darling, but come sit beside me. He’s heavier than you’d think.”

 Melara did as instructed, and as Tyrion was placed in her arms, a happy warm smile spread across her freckled face. “He is so cute! What’s his name?”

 “Tyrion.  Didn’t you tell your friend your baby brother’s name?” The nanny looked at Cersei.

 “ _That. Is. Not. My. Brother_.” Cersei set down her food and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

 The nanny’s puzzled expression deepened.

 Cersei turned her attention to Jaime.  “Is the pond frozen?”

 Jaime nodded.

 “I’d like to go ice skating.”

 “Oh, that sounds fun!” Melara chimed in from where she was seated. Tyrion’s plump hand was wrapped around one of her fingers.

 “I was speaking to my brother,” Cersei said coolly.

 “Cersei!” the nanny exclaimed. “That was very rude,”

 Cersei turned to the woman, “I believe my father employs you to tend to him, not us.” With a quick flick of the wrist, she pointed her finger at Tyrion.

 The nanny blinked, startled by her words, unable to reply.

 Cersei grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the dining room.  

 “Cersei!” Melara called after them.

 

 Jaime grabbed his hockey skates and slung them over his shoulder.  They bounced off his chest as he ran down the stairs heading towards the kitchens where Cersei had told him to meet her. He was excited to finally have time alone with his sister. She would want to spin and twirl, practicing “routines,” but if he told her she could try slapshotting pucks at him, he could get some net practice.

Cersei was in the kitchen garbed in her red coat, and to his surprise, Melara, wearing blue, was seated beside her.  Their white skates were strewn across the counter, besides the skates sat a tall red Thermos.

 Jaime’s smile disappeared; he wondered what the girl had done to get back on his sister’s good side.  

 “I had the cook make us hot chocolate,” Cersei said as she grabbed her skates, leaving her friend to carry the Thermos.

Although there wasn’t much snow, the ground was frozen solid.  Their ankles turned and twisted as they wobbled through the fields and into the trees.  As they came to a clearing a large pond stretched out before them.  The ice was smooth, the frozen waters sheltered from winds by the tall trees surrounding them.  Jaime grabbed the shovel and skated across the ice, removing what scant amounts of snow lay on the surface, clearing a few fallen twigs. As he pushed the shovel Jaime revealed the scrapes and scratches he had made with his own skates the week before.

 Satisfied with the job he had done, Cersei glided on to the ice.  Easy and graceful strides as she moved along the perimeter of the pond.

“Ow!” Melara cried out as she collapsed to the ice.  She maneuvered to her knees and crawled to his goal net, using it as a brace as she pulled herself upwards to her feet. Melara rubbed her backside and laughed. “I suck at this.” But to her credit the girl attempted to take a few more strides, wobbling her arms back and forth.  It was apparent she was going to go down again.  Without thought, Jaime moved quickly to her side, he stopped just short of her, sending a spray of ice chips outwards. He braced himself and grabbed Melara’s arm before she could fall down again.

 The girl gripped his arms with her mittened hands like a vise.  She smiled thankfully, but her large brown eyes held an expression of terror.

 “Bend your knees and keep your feet still,” Jaime said.

 She did as he asked, and Jaime pressed his heels into his skates, pushing himself backwards while she clung to him.  He skated with her backwards while she learned to use her feet, one careful slow toe-picked stride at a time.  He moved one of her hands away from his arms.

 “What are you doing?” she cried.

 “You got this,” he said as he took her hand into his other.

 She faltered slightly, but recovered herself as they slowly made their way around the pond.

 Jaime felt pleased with himself as Melara became more confident and tried to increase her pace to match his.  He grinned and looked for Cersei. But she was gone.  Jaime turned his head quickly to the left and right, at the edge of the ice was their Thermos, but no signs of his sister. He returned his focus to Melara as she fell away from him, her arms wind-milling as she crashed back with a scream.  

 Melara sat on the ice her hands gripping at her right skate.  Eyes shut tight.  Her breathing was funny, small gasps from a pink mouth she said, “I think I hurt myself. Bad.”

 “It’s probably just twisted. Best to leave the skate on.” Jaime reached his hand out to help her up.

 Melara shook her head, and whimpered. “I can’t.”

 “You have to move.” He could hear the wind howling through the trees; the snow was falling more heavily. The skies were growing dark.

 “It really hurts.”

 “Losing a nose to frostbite will hurt worse.” He was beginning to lose his patience with her whining.

 The girl looked as though she were about to cry.  Jaime felt a sting of guilt. Trying to make amends, he grabbed the Thermos Cersei had left. 

Jaime slunk down beside her as he poured a cup of hot chocolate into the lid of the Thermos “Here drink this.”

Melara took the cup, blowing the steam away from her face before sipping.

He waited until she was finished before saying, “I can’t carry you and you won’t walk.  I’ll need to leave you to get help.”

 Melara looked up at him frantically. “You can’t leave me!”

 “Can you walk?”

 “I’ll try.” But after a few steps, it was obvious he would need to get help.

Jaime removed his skates, and put on his boots.  The leather was stiff and cold.  Jaime unlaced Melara’s skate; his fingers felt clumsy and frozen as he pulled her boot on the left foot.

Melara grasped him with a mittened hand, grey wool with a pattern of blue snowflakes. “Thank you for helping me.”

 Jaime nodded.

 Unexpectedly she pulled his hand towards her, forcing him forward. Melara leaned in meeting his lips with her own. With a brief press of her mouth, she delivered his first kiss.  

Startled by the girl’s actions, he promised to be quick, and scrambled away.

Jaime ran up into the trees, through the field, and towards home. The sky had darkened to the colour of slate, white swirling snow fell down upon him. By the time he reached home it was past his ankles. He opened the door to the kitchen hoping to find his sister safe inside.

 The cook turned quickly, “Jaime dear! Where are the girls?”  

 

 

He led them to the pond: Aunt Genna, Mr. Pycelle, and the groundskeeper. They only found  the red Thermos.  Melara was gone. There was a moment of silence from the adults, followed by an exchange of looks, unspoken words that they supposed he could not understand.  

Aunt Genna was the first to speak, “Pycelle, call my brother at once. You tell him he needs to return. Immediately. Jaime, sweetling.  Go with Mr. Pycelle.”

“No. I want to help find them.”

“Go. Now.” Aunt Genna ordered, looking and sounding like his father then.  

Jaime went away with the old man.

Jaime refused to go to sleep.  Instead he gazed through his window, beams of flashlights weakly dancing through what was now a storm.  Try as he might he couldn’t fight sleep. That night he dreamt of falling into a black void of stars. Floating in air, flying, almost swimming.  

Her whisper at his ear awakened him.“ _Jaime_.”

“Cersei?” he asked sleepily.

She grasped his hand, small cold fingers entwined with his. “Father found us.”

 “Where were you?”

Cersei was silent, her breath at his cheek. Finally she whispered in the dark.  “We were lost. She was hurt. I made her walk. She kept crying and I was getting so cold. I left her… When I found the well, I stayed there until Father found … me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Jaime wrapped his arms around his sister. She cozied into his shoulder, her wet hair chill against his face.

He closed his eyes, and when he awoke in the morning, she was gone.  

The remainder of that winter had been bitterly cold; one storm followed by another, covering everything deeply. It wasn’t until the following spring that they gave up looking for Melara’s body. All winter search parties hired at his father's expense scoured the land surrounding Casterly Manor. The searches proved futile; there was no trace of Melara.

Jaime waited until they gave up the search; he waited until Tywin had left for the city. With dread, he took the long walk into the fields towards the well. Removing the rotted wooden board, he peered down, a creepy deep silence enveloping his head as he leaned his chin against the cold stone. All he had was a brief glimpse: brown hair and a blue coat. Jaime scrambled away, his heart thumping frantically.  Forcing himself to his feet he retrieved the board, tossing it back over the well.

He spent the rest of his childhood trying to forget about the secret that lay in that well.  He almost succeeded… until Tyrion. His sudden death brought back all his old suspicions about Cersei.

 

* * *

 

When he returned to his apartment, Cersei was leaning against the kitchen counter casually, arms crossed. She had turned on the TV; he had basic cable, a gift left over from the last tenant, sure to run out at the end of the month. She was watching a seedy questionable twenty-four hour news station. A channel he usually flipped past, not interested in the latest Hollywood gossip or the antics of celebu-teen antics. On the screen images of her wedding to Robert were interspersed with photographs of the dark-haired woman he was leaving her for.

 “Who was that?” she asked nodding towards the hallway.

“A girl I fucked,” Jaime replied coolly as he closed the door behind him.

The tightness of his sister’s lips was the only thing hinting at her displeasure.

“What do you want?” Jaime asked

 Cersei began to remove her coat.

“You can’t stay,”

“Don’t you care at all?” she motioned to the TV.

“Are you asking me if I care that Robert’s been cheating on you?” Jaime laughed at the idea. “You never loved him. Why should I care?”

Cersei ignored him and draped her coat neatly on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, revealing the simple black dress, low cut and short underneath. She played with the diamond necklace nestled between her breasts, “He was my freedom, Jaime, but he was never home. I was comfortable, relatively happy. It worked.  But now… he’s _‘fallen in love_ ’,” Cersei rolled her eyes.

“Have you considered getting this thing call ‘a job’?”

“Oh, please. Like you? Unemployed and living off the remnants of your car? You’re no better.”

“You seem to know a lot about me considering we haven’t spoken in years.”

“We used to be so close,” Cersei whispered, her green eyes emulating sadness. “You are the only one I’ve ever loved. What happened, Jaime?”

“You should leave.” The words came out like a threat. _Was it?_

“Father was going to give it all to him you know? _All of it._ ”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you see?  I was looking out for _us_! He’s old, Jaime. Everything could have been ours _._ When he’s gone, it could all be ours. We could be together, like you always wanted. Like _I’ve_ always wanted. You must know that.”

His voice grew loud. “He was our brother.” Each of her words was like a hammer falling upon his skull. His temples throbbed.

 “ _He was not our brother._ ”

 She reached for him, one palm upon his cheek--a familiar touch he’d yearned for most of his life. Her thumb brushed against his lips. She leaned in towards him, parting painted lips the colour of a ruby wine.

 He grabbed her wrist. “He was _my_ brother. Leave Cersei. Don’t come back.”

 She grew startled.  It was brief and quickly replaced by one of resignation. Her eyes deadened, and she dropped her hand away.

 Grabbing her coat she said nothing as she headed for the door, slamming it behind her.

" _Big news for our senator today! Robert ’Bobby‘ Baratheon is leaving his wife,  Cersei Lannister for Lyanna Stark.  Lyanna, you may remember is the sister of Police Commissioner Eddard Stark. What do you make of this, Varys?”_

_“Well, Marg, I’m thinking Senator Bobby is thinking too much with ‘little Bobby’; it's an extremely risky move for someone who has continually run on a platform of…”_

 Jaime shut the TV off.

 Between a rough night sleeping on the couch and his visit with Cersei, Jaime was still exhausted. He set the remote down and went down the hall towards his bedroom.

 Brienne had left the bed tidy.  Every sheet and blanket was tucked in tightly on all sides. He ripped it open and crawled inside.

 

* * *

 

He practiced the same routines, each day exactly like the last.  Morning run, practice with Addam, afternoon coffee, lousy takeout in the evening, then to bed with a book that had been Tyrion’s.

It had been months and she had yet to contact him. No text and no call. Brienne Tarth was avoiding him.  And it pissed him off more than he cared to admit. Yet he kept going to the horrid coffee shop, popping into the gym where she practiced. Hoping he might catch a glimpse of her…

_And then what? Question her? Demand to know why she was avoiding him?_

Cersei had kept her distance too, and for that he was thankful. He had been worried that recent news of Robert’s engagement to Lyanna Stark might cause her to resurface.

One afternoon,  Jaime returned to his apartment to find a parcel at his door. His immediate thought was _Cersei_ , one of her gifts.  He picked it up, but the return address was Lancel’s.

Jaime opened the brown wrapper. It was a hideous crystal thing, two swans with their beaks pressed together; it was one of the few items he could afford from the registry. He realized Lancel was returning his gift for the wedding that never happened.  Jaime wasn’t surprised; he’d been unapologetically glad when he heard the news of the cancelled wedding, it meant he wouldn’t be obligated to attend it. Besides he always suspected Lancel was gay.

With a horrible screech of Styrofoam he managed to wrestle the swans back into the packaging they had come in. He placed the box on the kitchen counter and put some music on. He decided it was time to try one of Tyrion’s books again. It was yet another habit that had become part of his daily routine. The smell of the trunk hit him as he opened it to reveal volumes of his brothers books it reminded him of the old library back home. Jaime reached in and grabbed one titled _The Lady from the Sea_. Closing the trunk, he made his way to the couch, fell back, and opened the cover.

A small old photo fell out, landing on his chest. They were children; he and Cersei had to have been thirteen or so, Tyrion no more than five. Jaime was holding up a chain of several fish they had caught in the lake, Tyrion broadly smiling beside him. Cersei was in the background, her legs slung over the dock into the water with her mass of hair shielding her face. Trying to ignore the ache in his throat, Jaime reopened the book. As he did so, his thumb brushed across a gold key taped to the inside cover. Attached to the key was a small tag in his brother’s writing reading “Lake House.”

Leafy Lake… it had been years since he’d thought of the place.  He peeled the key away and half prayed this book would be more interesting than the others. It wasn't long before the words on the pages blurred as his eyes grew heavy...

His cell alarm sounded at 6:00AM. Jamie flicked the screen down to “dismiss,” he longed for the day of the satisfying smashing of an alarm clock button. He showered and dressed for his run a daily uniform of sweat pants, t-shirt, and hoodie.  

His feet crunched as he ran upon the frosted grass; winter was coming. He pumped his legs through the park and to the campus grounds, cold huffs of breath visible in the chilled morning air.

He arrived at the courts and set his bag down to retrieve his breakfast: water and a protein bar that was no more than over-glorified hardened sawdust.

“Should have come out with me last night!” Addam arrived. He looked pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he was grinning like a fool.

“You look like shit,” Jaime wondered if perhaps he might have a shot at beating him today.

Addam unzipped his racket and replied. “You know that hot news anchor? Margery Tyrell?” Addam smirked and nodded, making an obscene gesture with the end of his racket.

Jaime half-listened as Addam went on about his latest.  He was specifically avoided watching the news because of that woman and her network’s obsession with the Robert, Cersei, and the Lyanna drivel they reported on.  Their love triangle was the latest media obsession.  He knew it was wrong, but he almost hoped for a plane crash to divert their interest.

Addam suddenly stopped, “Oh shit, dude! I’m sorry! Your sister! Well fuck…”

“Can we start?”  Jaime walked to the other side of the court not waiting for an answer. He smashed a serve at Addam who returned it easily.

All hopes of a win were bashed. Once again his effort seemed futile.  He left practice feeling inadequate and frustrated.

Addam was a good opponent and he was one of the few people Jaime could actually stand being around.  He talked too much, but he also never held back, and never let him feel sorry for himself. They sat on the floor of the court and watched another couple volley the ball back and forth.

Addam snatched up his phone as an alert chimed. He grinned at the message. “Gotta go.”

Jaime waved him away, continued to watch the match a few courts over, then rose to continue on with his mundane routine.

 

 

He glanced at the park briefly before entering the coffee shop. Nothing but empty benches.

The line was longer than usual, the cold weather having pushed people inside.  As he waited in the queue, he surveyed the baked goods deciding what would go best with the sludge he was about to drink.

The TV mounted up at the wall blared out, “ _BREAKING NEWS!”_

Jaime became hopeful the plane crash he’d been longing for was about to be reported on.

The young reporter Addam has been banging wore a severe expression on her pretty face. _“New revelations in the bizarre Senator Robert and Cersei Lannister story…”_

Jaime groaned and ordered his coffee, trying his best to ignore the report.

And then the words… _“sexual relationship with her brother Jaime Lannister,”_ grabbed his attention.

_“…former tennis hopeful was injured a few years back in an accident…”_

Jaime could feel his pulse pounding against his neck as his own grinning face flashed up on the screen.

_“...warning this audio may contain sensitive material, not intended for young children.”_

_“I don’t care if you’ve f***ed your brother, you were a victim…”_ Lancel’s voice. Jaime was certain of it.

There was incoherent mumbling, then Cersei’s voice, sweet and lilting, _“you’re too good to me…”_ sounds of an enraptured moan and distinct smacking of lips and tongues.

Jaime felt like he was going to throw up.

The barista stood before him, his coffee in her hand, her mouth slack-jawed, eyes wide and accusing.

He grabbed it, not even sure if he paid. Jaime fled the coffee shop before anyone else recognized him.  His phone rang, mostly ‘unknown calls. ’ Silencing the device, he pushed it back into his pocket.

The pavement blurred as he kept his head down, willing his legs forward.  Every stranger’s glance had him wondering if they _knew,_ if they somehow recognized him. He marched on fighting the bile in his throat and the coiling of his stomach.

The shock of hot coffee splattering against his chest yanked him from his thoughts.  He almost fell back on his ass as he bounced off the figure he crashed into. He was burned, but not too badly. His phone went flying onto the pavement, however, the battery forced out by the impact. He swore at the idiot who had bumped into him as he retrieved his phone, knowing full well it was his own fault.

“I’m so sorr…” Brienne’s familiar blue eyes widened as she recognized him.  Her spotted face went pale.

A hundred cutting remarks came to mind, grasping on to one, he blurted out, “What? No cell reception at the top of your beanstalk?”

She closed her mouth at that, and furrowed her brow slightly.

Her muteness angered him further. He brushed by her, his shoulder unintentionally clipping hers.

He longed for the solace of his shitty apartment, where he could drink himself into a stupor and figure out what he was going to do now that he would be nationally known as “that dude that fucked his sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, OK, OK... before I hear anything about "whaaa boo hoo another child death!?" I just want to point out it is canon!  
> And I had this planned out far before child murder became "my thing". Believe me, if I could get a re-do I would!
> 
> That said, I do hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has ignored Jaime for months. We learn why.

On the weekends Brienne helped her father with the books; he was terrible with keeping on top of the numbers. His many late evenings with his new girlfriend had not helped.

 She was mid-way through a pile of crumpled receipts when she was interrupted by her father’s booming voice, “Brienne, I’d like you to meet Renly.”  

Brienne cringed inwardly and looked up from her budgets. Her father was convinced she needed a boyfriend, someone to take her out on Friday nights. He failed to realize that the sons of the men who worked for him were only interested in currying favour with him.  Promotions are what motivated them into goading their sons into asking her out.

  _At least this one is cute…_ she thought.

“Hello.” Renly beamed her a charming smile.     

“Hi,” Brienne said, her voice much meeker sounding than intended.

“I’ll just leave you two alone for a bit.”

_Please don’t…_

Her father gave her a thumbs up through the office window as Renly turned back to face her.

“Well, this isn’t awkward in the slightest.”

 Brienne gave a small laugh.

 Renly returned a smile, one that lit up his eyes.

 

That summer was her happiest. In a few short months she had another year of university to look forward to; her best friend had been accepted into the same program; they were looking for an apartment to room together. And she had Renly.

“So when am I going to get to meet this guy?” Loras asked, popping an apple slice into his mouth.

“Soon,” she said as she organized her paperwork for school. Syllabus, calendars, and practice schedules.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks, and I have yet to meet him.  Is he hideous?”

“No, he’s quite lovely in fact.  Not as pretty as you of course.”

“Well, no one is.” Loras grinned as he brushed one of his brown curls behind an ear.

Brienne had been friends with Loras since they met in Judo class at age twelve. She had shot up in height that summer and there had been genuine fear she could harm the few girls that were in her class.  Not that the boys were much better.  Yet their instructor moved her to work with the boys.  The first day she had met Loras she had flopped him easily onto the mat, knocking the wind out of him and spraining his arm.  It was not an instant friendship to say the least.

“Have you even started to get ready?” Brienne asked him, trying to avoid his questions.  The truth was she had never expected to get beyond the first obligatory first date with Renly. She knew she was homely, not particularly interesting, and lacked any semblance of charm.  What he saw in her was a mystery. If anyone asked, she would deny it, but Brienne knew she had fallen for him. _Hard._

Brienne finished signing her forms and sealed the envelopes, why the school insisted on original copies was beyond her.

Brienne got up from the table and waved her envelopes at Loras.  “You know, you really need to get these done too. I’m putting these in the mail. I’ll be right back.” Brienne opened the door and to her surprise Renly stood at her door, hand raised mid-knock. “Oh! Renly!”

“Hi, I thought I would surprise you.” Renly gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Brienne blushed putting her hand to the spot his lips had brushed. Remembering herself she added, “Sorry! Come in! Um... this is Loras. I’m just going to run these down and I’ll be right back.”

She practically floated down the stairs, chewing back a big grin by biting her lips.

When she came back they ordered Chinese food and played Scrabble.  She won. As soon as Renly left she couldn’t help, but ask Loras, “So what do you think?”

“I think he’s gay.”

His response felt like a dousing of cold water, “How can you say that?”

Loras just gave her ‘you’re really asking me that?’ expression.

“He is _not_.”

Loras sighed. “I’ve got to go.  Just promise me you’ll be careful with him, OK?”

Brienne stood sullenly; she gave Loras a weak wave as he left her alone in her apartment.  She couldn’t meet his eyes.  There was doubt now, and somehow with one sentence he had been able to suck the joy right out of her.

 

All through dinner she couldn’t shake what Loras had said to her.  She started weighing Renly’s every word, action, interests, and speech.  As petty and stereotypical as she knew she was being, she couldn’t help herself. _Could he be gay?_

She was noticing his well manicured eyebrows when suddenly he reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a small wrapped package, placing it down with his perfectly groomed nails.

Brienne gasped.

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Renly chuckled. “It’s not what you think, Brienne.”

“Oh, thank god.” she laughed and felt her face burn with embarrassment.

“Go on, open it.”

A little green box, with a white bow.  She wondered if he picked out the paper himself.  It was almost too pretty to open.  Tearing at a small corner she unfolded the package, inside was a little blue iPod.

“I filled it with songs I thought you might like,”

“This is so lovely, so thoughtful, thank you,”

When they left the restaurant that night Brienne accepted his embrace.  He always smelled so good…

“I was thinking maybe I could come to your place…”

“It’s Saturday, don’t you have church in the morning?”

“I do, but I’d like to be with you tonight.” Renly grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb against the inside of her palm.

Brienne knew she was often naive, but even she could ascertain what he was hinting at.  She fumbled, and stuttered.

Renly saved her and replied, “I’ll hail us a cab,”

She served Renly another drink… six by her count, not including the three at the restaurant.

He drank it all down. “You are so very sweet,” he said. His eyes looked half drooped.

Brienne felt nervous; there was a sense that she was on the edge. It felt like her world was about to topple.

Renly ran his hand up her arm thoughtfully, but when he kissed her, his breath reeked of gin.  Brienne closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation of his lips on her skin. Sweet and gentle pecks on her neck. She stiffened when she realized the lights were still on as he pulled at the zipper of her dress.

Thankfully he stopped and whispered, “I’ll get the lights,” Renly crossed the room and flicked the switch on the wall while Brienne shimmied out of her dress and hurried to the bed to get beneath the covers.  Renly unbuckled his belt, removed his pants, and unbuttoned his shirt.  Brienne felt as though her heart would pound straight out of her chest, and her pulse was thundering at her ears as he climbed in beside her.  He manoeuvred on top of her kissing her on the mouth as he pulled down her panties.  He entered her quickly -- much more quickly than she was expecting.  She stifled a cry and enjoyed the sensation of his thumbs on her inner thighs as the pain of his entry ebbed away.  The moonlight cast a glow of silver across his chest, illuminating every dip and bulge of his muscles.  His eyes shut tight and head tilted up as Brienne stared wide-eyed at his Adam's apple, his mouth open and panting as he continued to thrust into her.

Renly came. He apologized as he fell on top of her, the sweat of his body and hair trickling down on to her chest and neck. Brienne moved her fingers over the back of his head tenderly; the moment was too brief.  He rolled away from her, settling on his pillow.  Brienne lay perfectly still, the sheets tightly gripped in her hand.  She rolled her gaze over to where Renly slept. Closing her eyes she thought, _“Loras was wrong...”_ but the feeling of everything being _wrong_ felt imbedded in her bones.

In the morning Renly was gone - on his pillow he had left a small piece of memo paper with the words...

" _See you Friday" - R._

 

 

Hyle Hunt pressed against her a little too closely to be considered polite, not for the first time in the duration of their dance. She shifted her body away from him and tried to ignore his roving hands.  “I’m here with someone,” she reminded him again with a stern look.  It was the third dance she had shared with these clowns from her father's office, what she really longed for the arms of Renly. He had a way of moving her across a dance floor that made her feel light and free. The car ride over to Lancel’s wedding had been uncomfortable and mostly silent.

_If I could just talk to him..._

The feeling of Hyle’s hand caressing her lower back made her flinch.

Brienne pushed him back once more.   _He does that again I’m going to knock him flat._

He was nearly a foot shorter than her. He pulled away a bit and gave her a strange smile.  “Look, Brienne, I’m going to be straight up with you.  You strike me as the type that would appreciate that.”

She looked at him genuinely puzzled.

“Those guys behind me…”

Brienne’s eyes went to the line of men at the bar.  All watching their dance. She hadn’t realized they had an audience. A bout of uneasiness rolled over her.

“We’ve got this wager going,”

“With me?” Brienne said dumbly.

“If you lay a wet one on me, maybe let me cop a feel I’d be well in the lead, it's a big pot. I’m willing to share. Buy yourself another pretty dress.”  

Brienne stopped dancing.

Hunt continued, “We could go to my car, we wouldn’t have to do anything, maybe you could just give me your panti..”

Brienne cracked him across the jaw so hard he landed on his ass and skidded across the lacquered floor.

The men at the bar erupted in hoots and hollers.

Brienne stood mortified in place. The blow has been so sudden, a surprise to her.

Hunt was sprawled out cold.

Realizing how badly he was hurt, the laughter of his friends stopped and they moved in to help him.

Brienne fled, bouncing into happy couples as she pushed her way out of the packed room.

 

She waited at the coat check, holding back angry tears and rubbing her aching raw knuckles as the clerk searched.

He was flipping through each article slowly matching the numbers on pins to the one he held in his hand.  Impatiently she finally snapped, “It’s the grey one, there with the black trim.”  

The man found the coat she was pointed at and double checked the numbers.  Satisfied she wasn’t trying to make off with someone else's coat he handed it over.

“Thank you.” she said curtly.She shoved her arms through the sleeves, tied the belt, and rushed out on to the veranda.  With the back of her hand she wiped the first tear that had escaped from her eye.  

“Something wrong, dear?”

The redheaded woman startled her.  She was stabbing out the remains of a cigarette and leaning against the balcony rail.

“No,” Brienne lied and continued down the stairs, head down, and hands in pockets. When she reached the pavement she stopped to pull her phone out of her clutch, scrolling for Renly’s number, she texted...

_I need to leave. Where are you?_

 Stuffing her phone back into her purse she marched through the front gardens towards the parking lot.  A black limousine pulled up cutting off her escape momentarily. Maneuvering behind it she kept her eyes on the salvation of her blue car in the distance.  

 

She made it to the line of trees bordering the parking lot her march only halted by her heels sinking into the damp grass. Freeing her shoes from the mud, she pulled her phone free and called Renly.

Phone to ear she prayed he’d pick up. The sound of “I Can’t Stand the Rain” immediately perked her ears. It was his ringtone.... it was then she saw them. Her best friend and her boyfriend. Open mouthed and engaged in a very passionate kiss.

Brienne was too shocked to react, and then like a torrent of rage her own thoughts beat at her… _you stupid girl, you stupid girl, stupid girl, stupid...._ too stunned, she couldn’t move and couldn’t look away.

They pulled away from each other, Loras whispered something to Renly who nodded. The couple managed to walk a few paces before noticing her.

Loras spoke first, “Brienne…”

She shook her head, refusing to listen. She couldn't respond, knowing it would only be a stumbling of incomprehensible words.

Unlocking her car door she darted inside.  

The keys in the ignition, car in reverse, she slammed on the pedal, she gasped as she almost hit Loras.

Putting the car in drive, she sped out of the parking lot.

 

 

 

Brienne’s finger glided over the screen of her phone… up and down, up and down she flipped over the contact list. Hovering around the ‘K’s’ and particularly the silly name ‘Kingslayer’ which was _not_ a word.  Her finger tip rested for a moment at the ‘L’s’... Loras. It wasn’t so long ago she would have texted or called him, to seek his advice about this Jaime Lannister.  It has been months since she'd spoken to Loras, and weeks since that green-eyed god had turned her world on edge. Frustrated she tried to wrap her head around the hows and whys of what had happened...

_Do you think he’s genuine? Should I call him? Was that night a mistake?  Maybe it was best to forget it… and him._

She couldn’t ask Loras for advice anymore. Brienne slouched down into her couch, shut her eyes and cursed herself for the thousandth time for not seeing the truth earlier. The horror of how she had gone on about Renly with him when they first started seeing each other.  

Immediately after the engagement party Loras had texted her non-stop, several messages a day sometimes.  She had ignored them all.

Clicking on his name she opened the message history for the first time since it happened.

_Brienne I’m sorry_

_Can we talk?_

_We wanted to tell you_

_I’m sorry_

_Coffee today?_

_I never meant to hurt you_

_I’m sorry_

_Please talk to me..._

Brienne went back, selected his name and clicked ‘remove contact. ’ Renly had been eliminated months ago.

“So stupid,” Brienne whispered, tossing the phone down onto her sofa cushion.  No, it was best to leave Jaime Lannister as a foolish, drunken but pleasurable memory.  

Switching devices she picked up her tablet to survey the news headlines.  The browsing order was always, ‘weather’, ‘local’, ‘world’ and if there was time, ‘entertainment’. She was half way through the ‘local’ section when she noticed an image of Lancel, clad in a tux and a bright smile. The article was an announcement of his appointment for Lannister Enterprises. Brienne studied the picture closer, it was the night of his engagement party, when she had discovered Renly and Loras, a secret that had been obvious to everyone but her. Using her pointer finger and thumb she zoomed in on the image to a familiar figure behind Lancel.  There he was, Jaime Lannister -- looking like he’d just sauntered off a _GQ_ shoot, drink in hand and talking to… Brienne squinted her eyes.

“Mark Mullendore,” Brienne whispered.  Her blood went cold and all the old fears and doubts filled her heart.   _Jaime was a part of it._

There was a part of her that knew she should feel anger and hurt, but now there was an explanation.   It was strange but Brienne could now grasp on to reason and that rainy evening with Jaime.  It made sense.

 _The bet went on much longer I thought... I wonder how much he won?_ Brienne thought disgustedly.

 _The gym_.  Brienne thought.   _I need to hit something._

She grabbed her gear, phone, and water bottle.  The name Jaime Lannister would now be added to her roster of names as she smashed her fist into her punching bag.

 

 

 

The autumn came, the days grew shorter, and for Brienne a quiet routine had thankfully became a part of her life again. The lack of distraction was most welcome.  No Renly, no Loras, and certainly no Jaime Lannister. She did her best to lose herself in her studies and the gym. Practice with the team, and long workouts occupied most of her evenings.  Exhaustion was always the goal and the sound sleep it would bring.  Her father had told her he’d planned on going south for the holidays with his girlfriend. She was dreading having to figure out ways to keep preoccupied while he was on vacation. Searching for ‘volunteer opportunities’ on her phone Brienne with head down made her way to the gym. She shivered in her light coat.  The air was crisp, and smelled of snow.

With a crash a body bounced off her hitting her with such force, her bag was knocked off her shoulder.

“I’m so sorr...”   _No…_  She clenched her fists tightly, and adrenaline coursed through her.  Setting her nerves raw.

Jaime snarled at her, “What? No cell reception at the top of your beanstalk?”

Startled into silence by his anger, she stood stunned while he brushed by her.

Brienne watched Jaime Lannister hurry away, his head forward without a glance behind.

She felt indignant that _he_ was the one storming away. Not knowing what else to do Brienne retrieved her gym bag from the pavement.  As she scooped it up she noticed a key lying next to it.  A small white tag attached.

 _Lakehouse_ , she picked it up and folded the key into her palm.

_Loras_

_Renly_

_Jaime_

_Loras_

_Renly_

_Jaime_

_Jaime_

_Jaime_

_Jaime…_

Each name was followed by a whack of her fist on the punching bag. Huffing and at the point of exhaustion, she barely grazed the bag with her last punch.

“Fuck,” Brienne whispered as she leaned on the bag, her temple resting on her forearm. She pushed sweat-drenched tendrils of hair away from her eyes and rolled her glance over to the wall of mirrors.

Her face was as pink as a Hawaiian sunset.

“Fuck,” she said again as she reached into her pocket pulling out the key.

 _Coward_ , she thought self-accusingly.  The truth of it burned.

 

 

Hair still damp from her shower at the gym, Brienne parked across the street from his house apartments. _With luck he won’t be home_ … she thought.  She could slide the key beneath his door and never have to think about him again.

Brienne flipped the visor down; the reflection that stared back was reaffirmation that it must have been a bet, _a joke_.  It was the only thing that made any sense.  She _knew it_. It had just felt so different, _better than Renly_ … and for the first time in her waking hours Brienne let her thoughts drift to him… _Those eyes, that face, his lips_ … She flipped the visor back, cutting her thoughts from going any further.

Music pulsed down the hallway.   _Hendrix..._

Brienne stood outside the door with the music thundering behind it.  The number “7” in brass stared back at her. She was contemplating if she had the right apartment when suddenly the door flung open.

Jaime’s eyes met hers.  They narrowed at the sight of her.  

Brienne stiffened, looking down only momentarily, quite painfully aware she was giving ground she returned his glare.

“What do you want?” he growled. “Here to pay for the phone you broke?” In his hand he held a small leather bag, the long shoulder strap rested on the floor as he leaned against the wall waiting for her reply.

Brienne opened her mouth to respond, a sputtering of words formed in her head, refusing to be vocalized.  Then the smell of him hit her.  “You’re _drunk_!”

“Well, I didn’t fuck you for your looks. Shame I don’t even have your brains as excuse. No shit, I’m drunk.  Now what is it you want, Brienne?” 

The insults cut, worsening her ability to speak.

He stared at her impatiently with red and angry eyes.  

Remembering the key, she reached into her pocket and held it out for him, palm up.

A clipped sigh of amusement escaped his lips. “Well, your timing is excellent.  Of course, I never would have lost it if you didn’t clobber me on the side-walk.”

“I did not clobber you,” Brienne said tersely, pushing her palm and the key closer to his face--a gesture that demanded he take it from her.

Jaime snatched the key and threw it in the bag, with what appeared to be crumpled clothes.

 _I refuse to ask him.  There.  He has the key. I can go._ Brienne gave a stiff nod and turned heel.

“Wait!” He called after her, “care for a drink?”

“It’s 11 in the morning!” She turned to answer him.

“Come on, one for the road.” He looked at her with that devilish grin.

“What do you mean the road?”

“I’m leaving. Be nice to have a drink with… with someone who doesn’t hate me.” 

For some unknown and unwanted reason her chest tightened at the thought.

“Wait, do you hate me?”  His grin was gone, his face seemed somber, serious… and his eyes searched hers.

 _I need to know the truth of it_ … “I might. I’ll come in, but I’m having coffee. And turn down your music.”

The coffee was terrible: instant and black. He had neither sugar nor milk to flavour or mask the taste. Brienne took a polite sip and pushed it back on the counter. Working up the courage she finally asked…. “Were you a part of that bet at Lancel’s engagement party?”

Jaime stopped pouring his whisky, stone-faced he asked.  “Do you think I was?”

“So you admit you knew of it?”

Jaime smirked, “I’m capable of so much worse than that you know. Well, you will know. But that sorry sad game I had no part in. Not that you’d believe me anyway.” He finished his drink and poured another.

The tightness in her throat eased… “I believe you.”

A beat of silence took the room. Jaime gave her a smirk. “I heard you clocked Hunt good.”

Brienne chewed back a smile, pressing the horrible mug of coffee back to her lips.

“Come with me,” Jaime said suddenly.

“I’m sorry?”

“To the Lake House”

“What?”

“It's only a few days.”

“I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I barely know you!”

“Well what better way to get to know someone?”

“I don’t even know if I want to know you.”

He paused briefly.  “Fine. Door is there”

Brienne unsettled by his brisk response, rose from her spot in the kitchen.  

As she reached the door, he shouted, “Toss me those car keys would you?”

“You can’t drive!” she exclaimed.

“Who is going to stop me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to Comma for beta reading.
> 
> Another chapter down - one or two more to go? As always I welcome your thoughts dear reader.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne takes Jaime on a long drive up north.

“Which car is yours?” Brienne asked Jaime as she pushed the button on the remote key chain. None of the parked cars responded. There was no way he could drive in his current state, and the last thing she needed was a death by fiery crash looming over her head the rest of her life.  

“I don’t have a car,” Jaime said almost barrelling into her as he stepped off the curb.

Brienne stared at him open mouthed and forehead crinkled, wondering how much he had to drink.

“Let’s take yours.” Jaime wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pointed at her blue hatchback across the street. “Come on.  You have a more important engagement?” he asked mockingly.

The truth of it burned. She did not.

Brienne didn’t answer him, but walked briskly to her car, unlocked the door, and opened his.

He tossed his bag into the back seat and buckled up.

“How far away is it?” Brienne asked getting ready to input their destination into her phone.

“A few hours.”

Jaime rattled off an address to a town Brienne had never heard of.  

“Jaime! This is over six hours away!”

“Well, I suppose you should spend the night. We’ll pick you up something on the way.”

Brienne had to trust in the directions her phone was giving her.  One blue triangle moving her down long winding roads.  She jumped a little whenever the voice spoke out from the device; the vocal interruptions of “turn left” and “keep right at the fork” were becoming far less frequent the more she drove.

It had been three hours into their journey when the landscape began to subtly change.  More hills, rockier terrain, and an abundance of trees.

Jaime was out cold; he had lasted an hour or so into the drive. He was slumped over in her passenger seat, mouth slightly open, a faint snore escaping his open lips.  But even in a drunken heap the man was devastatingly handsome.

Brienne looked at her phone briefly and contemplated calling her dad. It would be smart to have someone know where she was.  Annoyed that her father was the only viable person in her life to call about driving up state with a drunken billionaire, Brienne instead put the phone down and concentrated on the road.

Jaime muttered something angrily as he turned over in his seat, his head thunking against his window.

Brienne picked up her phone again.

_No Signal._

“Fantastic,” Brienne muttered sarcastically. She was in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew. An unconscious man she barely knew… a very attractive unconscious man she barely knew…

Brienne switched on the radio.  All her pre-set stations were static.  Finding a local news station that came in clearly, she settled on that.

_.... you’ll want to keep an eye out for that and prepare yourself.  This will be a doozy._

_Thanks, Sam. We’ll keep listening for more developments. Remember weather every ten minutes after the hour._

_In the world of business, Lancel Lannister has been asked to step down from his new position at Lannister Enterprises.  This short appointment only lasting a few days has investors nervous for the current state of the company given all controversy that had erupted over …._

Jaime hit the button shutting her radio off.

“I have a headache.”

“Not surprising,” Brienne muttered.

“Now, now, don’t be mean,” He answered back as he rubbed at his eyes.

Jaime, I need to stop soon,” Brienne said. Her bladder felt like it was pulling strings inside her.

“There’s a store coming up in another ten minutes or so, if I remember correctly.”

Brienne nodded gratefully.  She was mortified at the thought of having to relieve herself at the side of the road.

The stores sign _boasted gasoline, hot coffee, food, Indian crafts, camping and fishing supplies!_ Blessedly it had a clean bathroom. Brienne washed her hands, and looked in the mirror.  

 _I’m going to need a comb, toothpaste, deodorant…_ she contemplated attempting the six hour drive back by herself, but dismissed it.  She felt tired already, and there were still two more hours until they reached his cabin. One more night with Jaime Lannister wouldn’t kill her.  

She pulled out her phone, now showing full bars. “Thank god,” she said as she called her dad.

As typical for him it went straight to voicemail.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me.  I wanted you to know… I’m going to be away a day or two.  Right now I’m at this place called ‘The Wolf’s Den’ off Highway Seven, North.  I’m staying with…. a… friend.  His name is Jaime, and it's a cabin around Leafy Lake. Ok, well I guess that’s it. Bye.”

Brienne hung up, painfully aware of how strange her call would be to him.

The store was ill stocked in its off season with three long shelves in all.  Finding one with a section dedicated to toiletries, Brienne selected a toothbrush, toothpaste, and the last remaining deodorant, all covered with light film of dust.  Brienne opened the deodorant and sniffed; it was overpoweringly floral. Remembering she had some in her gym bag she put it back.

Jaime was pulling beer from the one of the refrigerators. This requiring both hands, he had chosen to secure a giant bag of beef jerky clamped between his teeth.

The jingling of the store’s door signalled the entry of two more patrons. Two men dressed in hunting fatigues.  One of them was hacking up sloppy wads of something loudly and violently.

“Jesus, Hoat, cover your fucking mouth.”

Hoat ignored his friend and side stepped him, making his way to the refrigerator.

Standing above Jaime and reaching into the fridge, the man went into another cough fit.

“Watch it!” Jaime cried as he wiped the back of his neck.

 _Hand sanitizer_ , Brienne thought, mentally adding it to the list of things she needed.

Brienne searched at the shelves for anything to munch on.  Her stomach was starting to grumble.  She found trail mix and a box of granola bars still within its expiration date. Brienne added the items to her basket.

At the counter Jaime attempted to grab her purchases as well… “I got it.”

“No. I can get my own. Thank you.”

“Brienne, it’s the least I can do,”

“Hey. I think I know you...” The young clerk pointed at Jaime and squinted her eyes, interrupting what Brienne sensed was an impending argument between her and Jaime.

“Nope,” Jaime answered glibly, smacking a twenty down. “Keep the change. Let’s go.”

Jaime took off quickly.  The door closed behind him, bells jingling loudly.

“That’s not enough for everything,” the clerk said pointing at the items Brienne was holding.

Brienne dug through her purse, finding the remaining balance she paid the clerk, who was watching Jaime intently as he made his way across the parking lot towards her car.

“Your brother is cute.”

“He’s not my brother,” Brienne snapped.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at Brienne’s reaction. She paused from handing over her change. “Oh shit! I do know who that is! That’s Jaime Lannister! It is, isn’t it?”

A blast of the car horn pulled Brienne’s attention away from the girl.  

Jaime was motioning impatiently.

“Are you his lawyer or something?” The girl asked.  Her lip was curled and nose scrunched. She looked a little disgusted.

“No… Why would you ask that?”

“Hey!” The girl yelled out suddenly. “This isn’t a library you know?!” The  two hunters were flipping through some of the magazines.

The sick one responded by hacking into the magazine, quite intentionally. “Thorry.” He smiled, closing it and returning it to the shelf.

Jaime was honking the horn again.  Brienne grabbed her bag of purchases and left the clerk to chastise her customers.

 

“You know… that girl asked me if I was your lawyer.” Brienne tried to ask casually as she checked her rear-view mirror.  They were only an hour away from their destination, and Jaime had seemed to sober up, chewing on shreds of the beef jerky.

He didn’t answer and gave a lazy shrug.

“She seemed to know you. What kind of trouble are you in? Why would she ask such a thing?”

After a long pause he answered her back, “You can rest easy; you’re not harbouring a fugitive.”

Brienne realized he was evading her questions. “She thought I was your sister at first.” It shouldn’t have perturbed her that she would only be seen as a relative or his legal counsel.  Nothing more was feasible in the eyes of that girl at the store.

“You couldn’t be further from Cersei,” Jaime said quietly.

The way he said it seemed more like praise than insult.

Brienne shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I don’t know what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, Lannister, but I think its best that we part ways tomorrow morning.”  

“If that’s what you want.”

 

“This is not a cabin,” Brienne said as she drove down the winding driveway, the facade of the house revealed beneath giant pines and bare trees.  She imagined it must have been breathtakingly beautiful in the early autumn.

“You’re the one who kept calling it a cabin.”

The house was two stories high, grey, and had  a roof with many gabled peaks. It sat on the edge of the lake with too many windows to count, a large dock seemed to wrap around to the back.

It was night, but the lane was lit by small yellow lights; a few pointed up at the house.  It looked magnificently lonely.  The full moon cast a light glow on the still lake.  The stars above them were countless.

“You should see it in the early fall,” Jaime said as he moved past her digging into his bag.

Brienne brought her plastic bag of goods and followed.

“You can have the room up the stairs on the left.  First door,” Jaime said pointing towards the staircase.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. What shall we have for dinner?”

“I only have granola bars,” Brienne said.

“No worries.  Fully stocked. Why don’t you freshen up? I’ll get something started.”

Brienne found her room.  She pushed the door open to reveal an interior completely covered in several white sheets.  Brienne pulled one off the bed, a chair, and her dresser.  She carefully placed her three items in a drawer, then folded her plastic bag, followed by the three sheets.  She checked her phone. There was nothing from her father, and no signal up here should she want to try again. Unable to find anything else to delay her dinner with Jaime, she went down the stairs and followed the sounds of kitchen drawers being opened and shut.

“We have a man who takes care of the place year round,” Jaime explained as he took the lid off a frozen dinner in a tinfoil container.  It looked homemade. “Chicken or fish?” he asked holding the meals up for her to inspect.

“Fish.” Brienne answered.

Jaime nodded popping the container into the oven.

“You should pre-heat it first.” Brienne said.

Jaime looked at the oven like it was a spaceship. “I’m not sure how to do that.”

Brienne turned the oven on. Jaime didn’t move.  She suddenly became very aware of how close they were to each other. Clearing her throat, she took a step back, and said, “There. Should only be a few minutes, then you can put them in.”

“I’ll go find us some appropriate wine.”

Brienne took some time to admire the space.  

The kitchen and living quarters were open concept.  A grand slate fireplace climbed the far wall, surrounding it was oversized furniture, and a very expensive looking rug.  The most spectacular element to the room was the expansive length of windows.  Two stories high, they offered a full view of the entire lake.

“This should serve.” Jaime held up a bottle of white wine.

The oven beeped. Brienne put their food in to cook.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing me here.”

“Never mind the fact that you wouldn’t have had a way here without me,” Brienne pointed out.

Jaime smiled.  “I’m sure I would have found a way.”

“I suppose you would have,” Brienne answered.

“So why did you come?” Jaime asked pushing his finished plate away.

“Honestly?” Brienne considered her answer. “I didn’t have anything else to do. Sad, right?”

“Mmm,” Jaime answered back absently. “Nothing to do with how deeply you’ve fallen in love with me?”

Brienne coughed and sputtered her wine.  She could feel heat rising up her neck and face.

Jaime laughed. “Easy, Brienne. I’m joking.”

“I know.” She coughed again.  

“Sincerely.  Thank you. I will make it up to you somehow.”

“You needn’t worry.” Brienne answered, feeling their conversation was drawing to a close. “If you don’t mind, I’m exhausted from the drive.  I’d like to leave early in the morning.”

“I’ve got the dishes,” Jaime said quietly.

Brienne was exhausted.  She removed her clothes, and put on the shirt Jaime had given her, fully aware this was the second time he had lent her clothes to sleep in. The white tuxedo shirt felt crisp and very expensive. Leaving two buttons at the top undone, she climbed within the confines of the cool sheets.  Her skin goose-fleshed as she curled up under the blankets.  As tired as she was, she tossed and turned, unable to shake the strangeness of the place she was in. More than an hour had to have passed until she gave up and climbed out of the bed.  She opened her door a crack and listened.  The house was quiet except for the light howl of the wind outside. Holding the bannister, Brienne crept downstairs in the dark.  

After opening the third cupboard she found a glass and poured herself water from the tap.

She started to creep back to her room when his voice startled her, “Can’t sleep?”

Brienne jumped.  Her eyes focused on his silhouetted form. He was standing looking out the windows facing the lake.  

“No. I can’t.”

He turned his head slightly, the moon's glow outlining his perfect profile. “Me either.”

Brienne finished her water and put the glass down.

“Do you see that dock over there?” he asked.

Brienne moved closer towards him. The display of the silvery lake was breathtaking.  The wind had picked up, and the trees danced like shadows surrounding the water.

“You mean the dock surrounding the entire back of this house? Of course I see it.”

“No. There.” Jaime pointed to the right.  

Brienne squinted, in the distance she saw a small dock, pale wood made brighter by the moon's reflection. “I see it.”

“That’s where the old cabin used to stand.” Jaime gave a brief smile. “Now that was truly a cabin. Nothing like this monstrosity we’re in now.”

Brienne couldn’t help but smile back.

“My father tore down the old cabin the summer of our first trip here, then he built this.  ‘The first of many’, he had boasted. He wanted to own all the land surrounding the lake. Rent or sell them for a premium.”

There wasn’t a property to be seen all across the lake.

“What happened?”

“Ned Stark.”

“Who?”

“He owns everything else. Refused to sell.” Jaime gave a genuine smile. “Father hated that.”

Brienne wondered why Jaime was sharing all of this with her.

Jaime continued, “My father always gets what he wants. He’ll eventually get all this too.”

Brienne felt utterly at a loss.  She didn’t know what to say to him. He seemed to need comfort of some kind, but his moods were so changeable.  Deciding it was probably best to escape back to her room she said quietly, “I should get back to bed, I have a long drive tomorrow…”

Jaime grabbed her arm.  “Brienne. Stop.” His grasp was firm but gentle.

“We both know you just saved me the trip upstairs.”

She opened her mouth to respond. To protest his arrogant suggestion.

He stared at her, a glint of knowing in his eyes.

Jaime brought his hand to her cheek and slid it towards the back of her neck, pulling her closer he brought his mouth to hers.

Brienne closed her eyes as his tongue found hers.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling at the back of her shirt.  He pressed her back towards the window. The sensation of the coldness of glass against her back ebbed at the feeling of Jaime’s hand moving up her thighs, pushing her shirt up higher. His hands squeezed at the meat of her thighs and ass.

She lost herself in his hungry kisses, returning them with equal passion, her fingers tangled in his hair.

She stiffened slightly as his fingers found the folds of her sex.  He rubbed his thumb firmly at her clit,  the sensation causing her knees to buckle slightly. He inserted a finger into her, then another.  His mouth and tongue flicking at hers.  Unable to breath she became dizzy, a feeling overpowered only by the building of her orgasm.  A quiet low moan escaped her lips as she climaxed.  Pulling his fingers from her, Jaime held her steady, lifting one of her legs while pulling her underwear to the side.

She could feel herself clench around his cock as he pushed into her. Still reeling from her own orgasm, her arms felt limp around his neck as he fucked her standing. Recovering somewhat, her  hips began to meet his increasing rhythm.  

“Fuck me,” Jaime commanded. He brought her to the floor. She straddled him and did as he asked. Jaime watched her, licked his lips and rubbed his hands over her stomach, settling on her hips he squeezed and bucked his hips upwards.

Jaime closed his eyes and let out an unadulterated moan.

Brienne increased her pace. The sensation of him and his reaction spurring her on.

“Brienne,” Jaime uttered.

Brienne kept her pace.

“Brienne.”It was almost a plea.

It felt too good to stop, she gripped his shoulders harder and kept moving, her back slick with sweat as his hands held her firmly.

"Oh fuck! Jaime rasped as he threw his head back and breathed heavily.

Brienne paused, feeling him tense then relax. She stood up quickly, the warmth of his orgasm trickling down her thigh.

It was only then that she realized what they had done.

Seeing the panic in her eyes Jaime whispered. “No. It’s fine. Let's go to bed.”

Brienne was rattled with the careless abandon she had allowed herself.

Rising from the floor, Jaime slid his arm behind her back guiding her through the dark room into his room, a large master suite with a bed double the size of hers upstairs.

As Brienne climbed in and her head settled upon the pillow, she felt the exertion of the day.  The pale blue light of the room hinted at the dawn fast approaching.

Her last thought was of how she would like to watch the sunrise over the lake.

 

She awoke to the smell of coffee.  Opening her eyes, Brienne surveyed the room. Wooden beams drenched in morning light.  She rolled over and hugged the blankets close while she formed a plan to make it to her room upstairs without him noticing.  She wanted a shower desperately and would rather not see him until after. After that, she could gather her things, have a polite cup of coffee, and be on the road in thirty minutes.

Gathering her courage she buttoned up the tuxedo shirt she was wearing, and held down the edges as she walked. She contemplated wrapping the blanket around her and making a run for the stairs.  Deciding it would only hamper her, she opened the door quietly, and crept out into the living room.

Jaime stood in the kitchen, bare-chested, his back to her.  He appeared to be reading the instructions on a box.  He started coughing, and seizing her moment, Brienne practically jogged down the hallway and quickly up the stairs.

Freshly showered, her few items gathered in her plastic grocery bag, Brienne came back to the kitchen. Jaime had thrown a t-shirt on and was plating a stack of pancakes. Outside there was a fluttering of gentle snowflakes blowing across the now grey sky.

“How on earth did you manage pancakes?” Brienne asked truly impressed.

“Only had to add water.  I even have maple syrup. The real stuff.” He pulled a chair for her. Brienne took her seat and surveyed the table.

“Coffee? I only have whitener.”

Brienne nodded and he poured her a mug of steaming coffee.  Remembering the last cup he served her, Brienne added lots of whitener and sugar.  

“Syrup?” Jaime asked offering her the bottle.

She reached to grab it and he snatched it back coughing into his arm.  

“Sorry,” he said clearing his throat.

Brienne took the syrup, poured them onto her pancakes, and ventured a first bite. “These are unreasonably good,” Brienne said truly shocked.

Jaime took a bite of his, “I thought you were being polite, but they really aren’t that bad!” He started coughing again. Almost to the point of choking.

Brienne sprang up from the table.

Jaime held his hand out for her to stop. “I’m fine,” he managed in the midst of his hacking fit. Recovering he took a deep sip of his coffee.

Brienne convinced he wasn’t dying continued her breakfast. “You cooked. I’ll manage the dishes.” She started to clear, and added, “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“You still plan on leaving?”

“Of course.” She tried her best to sound casual as she took his plate.

She washed the dishes in silence. Jaime said not a word.

Drying her hands she turned to find him staring at her.

He looked sweaty, eyes drooped.  He looked sick.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly.

“You don’t look fine,”

In response he went into another coughing fit.  Brienne poured Jaime a glass of water and went to him. He took it from her, closed his eyes and drank and it down.

Brienne place her hand on his forehead, “Jaime, you’re on fire!”

He looked at her strangely.

Realizing what she was doing, she removed her hand from his face.

“You better go,” he said breaking their gaze.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“I said I was fine.”

“You are not.”

“I am. Now fuck off.”

“Stop acting like a prick. I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you here.  You’re nothing but a fucking distraction. OK?”

His words cut, but Brienne had made up her mind. “Give me directions into town. I’ll get you some medicine. Then, I’ll stop distracting you. You can spend your hours hacking up your lungs and being insufferably miserable person alone.”

He looked away from her, angry and silent.

She would not give ground and waited.

Finally he answered… “Go left out the driveway…”

 

As irritated as she was with Jaime’s foul temper, Brienne couldn’t help, but feel her spirits lift at the sight of the first snow.  It fell gently onto the pine boughs, everything appeared to have been dusted with sugar.  Pulling into the full parking lot of Wyman’s, Brienne was never more thankful to see a box-chain store.  One stop and she could gather all she would need.  As always she drew stares as soon as she entered. Two women paused their conversation briefly to look her over.  Brienne grabbed a cart and pushed it down to the grocery section.  

Orange juice.

Turning into the soup aisle she bought several cans of chicken noodle.

While looking for honey she couldn't help but hear the conversation of two women, the words “blizzard” and “stocking up” caught her ears.

“Excuse me,” Brienne interrupted, “did you say there was a storm coming?”

“Bad one.  Should hit this afternoon. Record breaker they’re saying.”

Brienne gave them a polite, “thanks,” as she passed them in search of the pharmacy section. Cart full of Advil, congestion medicine, and Neo-Citran, she went into the section of the store she dreaded most. Her enjoyment of shopping for clothes ranked up there with getting her teeth drilled and waiting in line at the DMV.

Settling on a few t-shirts, a blue hoodie, and a couple of non-descript track pants, she went to search for a package of underwear.  Normally she’d grab the cheapest cotton that offered the most pairs, but she paused and wondered if they really were that attractive… to the right were several frillier, lacier, and silkier selections. “What am I doing?” Brienne grabbed the package she originally considered getting and moved away from the lingerie.  Tossing an 8-pack of white ankle socks into the cart, she took another glance back to the fancier looking underwear. Not really registering what she was grabbing, she took a handful of the panties and threw them in the cart.  With the addition of a sensible coat, hat, and gloves  her shopping was completed.  

 

Her tires locked and slid for the third time as she rounded a curve. Brienne shifted her hands on the wheel, keeping the small car on the road… barely.  The snow had intensified in the hour she had spent in the store, the wipers were furiously attempting to keep her windshield clear. Occasionally a large truck would pass her shooting up thick grey sludge at her windows.  Brienne did her best to hold the wheel steady. The already unfamiliar landscape had become even more unrecognizable.  She stopped at a lane that she hoped was Jaime's and pulled in.  Praying her car didn’t get stuck, she plowed slowly down the hill towards the house.

Managing to carry all the supplies inside in one go she peeled off her wet running shoes and socks, cursing herself for not purchasing boots on her outing.  

Carrying the groceries to the kitchen, she heard Jaime's convulsive hacking from the living room. She dumped her bags on the floor and went to see what kind of condition he was in.

He was curled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets from his room, a confetti of tissues littering the  floor in a radius around him.  

Brienne felt his forehead; he didn’t budge.

_He’s burning up…_

Brienne fished the Advil out of one of the bags and poured Jaime a glass of water.  She contemplated whether she should wake him or not when he called out her name.

“I’m here.”

Jaime sat up, his hair was disheveled and eyes sunken. Still he made the best looking half-corpse she’d ever seen.

“Take these.” Brienne handed him the medicine and water.

Jaime drank it down ,his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp.

“Thank-you.” His voice low and gravely  It was amazing how fast he had fallen ill.

“I’ll get you more water.  Do you feel like eating anything?”

Jaime shook his head.

“I bought Popsicles. Would you like to try one of those? I've always liked them when I have a fever.”

Jaime looked at her, the corner of his lip hinting at a smile.  He nodded.

Brienne grabbed two from the box, both strawberry flavoured. Handing him one, she opened hers and settled on the couch beside him.

They sat there for a while, silently watching the swirl of snowflakes dancing against the windows.  A hazy veil of white obscured the lake completely.

“It hurts to talk,” he whispered.

“Now that must be your own private hell.” Brienne smiled.

“Was that a joke?”

She put her Popsicle in her mouth and didn’t answer him.

“Tell me something about you. Entertain me,” Jaime said in a hoarse whisper.

Feeling bad for him, Brienne thought a moment.  Something told her that compared to his life, hers would seem rather dull.

“When I was a girl, I wanted to be a ballerina. It’s funny right? I know... I’m gigantic, and not at all graceful.  Every year I would beg my dad to take me to see the Nutcracker.” She stopped. “Is this boring you?”

Jaime shook his head.

Brienne continued, “I begged him for lessons, and finally tired of my pestering, he signed me up at this studio near my school.  Convenient for him, because I could just walk myself there. It became apparent quite quickly that I was _not_ ballerina material. Still they had to use me, and when it came time to do the Nutcracker they gave me the role of the Mouse King.” Brienne stopped suddenly at the sensation of Jaime’s hand folding into hers.

Gathering her wits she continued. “It was a horrible giant papier-mâché head. It smelled of glue and tissue paper on the inside.  I hated it.” She laughed. “I really don’t know why I’m telling you this…” Brienne looked to Jaime, his head was bent forward, chin on chest, and his half-eaten Popsicle had fallen from his hand, melting on the blanket he was wrapped in.

Slowly unlocking her fingers from his, Brienne took the Popsicle from him The sticky juices trickled down her hand. Before leaving the sofa to toss it in the garbage she took a moment to take in the situation she found herself in.

The wind rattled the windows  and the lights in the kitchen flickered momentarily. Jaime slept through it all.

Trying her best not to disturb him Brienne pulled his blanket up to his shoulders. She tossed the melted Popsicle away and brought him another glass of water, placing it on the coffee table.

 _I guess I’m staying_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to my beta Commasplice.
> 
> Big bear hugs to all of those who took the time to comment. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowed in at the Lakehouse, Brienne takes care of sick Jaime Lannister.

Brienne listened to Jaime’s laboured breathing, a light snore interrupted by an occasional cough. The sky had gone dark. The wind outside howled bitterly and there was a constant slashing of snow and ice at the windows.  The lights flickered and momentarily sent the room into darkness.  Then, thankfully they came back on.  Worried they would go out again, Brienne decided she should make a fire. Beside the fireplace was a healthy portion of cut wood, perfectly stacked and in keeping with the showroom-quality aesthetic of the house. Brienne blew on the kindling as it caught the flame from the lighter.  As the fire grew Brienne felt a little more at ease. Her task completed she glanced at him again.  He lay in a magnificent sweaty heap on the couch. The fire's light casting gentle shadows across his ridiculously handsome face.  

Brienne realized she was staring and quickly picked herself up from the floor.  Her stomach growled as she made her way into the kitchen.  From the cupboards she selected a can of chicken noodle soup. After a bit of rummaging she also found a red Thermos.  If they lost power they would have some hot food.

Deciding it was a good idea to find flashlights and candles, Brienne set out to explore.

Seven bedrooms and four-and-a-half baths later she had managed to scrounge up three flashlights, several pillar candles, and a giant bag of votives from one of the bathrooms. The last room she explored contained a massive bookshelf with an impressive selection.  Brienne dragged her fingers across the spines she selected a few, including  one titled,   _Local Legends and Stories of Leafy Lake_ , she added it to the stash in her canvas bag.  On her way out she jumped at the feeling of a shadow in the room with her.  Her arms prickled and she felt suddenly very cold.  

 _Someone is here…_ everything seemed unusually quiet suddenly she rubbed away the goose flesh forming on her arms.

A startling sound came from the bathroom, and despite her promises to never be one of those girls who inspect odd noises in strange dark houses… Brienne went to the bathroom to see what had fallen.

Flipping on the bathroom light she saw nothing but white tile and porcelain.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  She was no beauty, but she had to admit, even for herself, she looked a mess. Hair greasy, eyes dark and tired looking.  She was happy to make her reflection vanish when she opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror.  Inside she found another bottle of Tylenol and one very expired bottle of antibiotics. Deciding she’d let Jaime make the call on their ingestion, she added the items to her stash.

 

When she returned he was sitting upright guzzling down the water she had left beside him.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he managed to choke out.

“I found these.” Brienne offered him the antibiotics.

Jaime read the inscription with a light chuckle. “To think Tyrion’s VD pills might still be of use five years later…” He popped one into his mouth and finished his water.

“I made some soup,” Brienne offered.

Jaime lay back onto the couch. “I’m not hungry. Just tired.”

“You might be more comfortable in your bed.” Quietly she added, “I could help you…”

Jaime eyed her for a moment.  “Here is good. I’m tired, I think I’ll sleep a bit more. You can watch a movie if you’re bored.” He pointed to a large cabinet beneath the television.

She made a quick scan of all the DVD cases and retrieved “The Shawshank Redemption,” one of her favourites and held it up for his approval.

“Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

She took his response for a “yes.”

She went to plop down into the oversized chair when a large pillow whizzed by her, landing with a soft thump on its seat.

Jaime smirked and patted a spot on the couch beside him.

Brienne sat down.

“I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll watch a bit.”

Focusing on the movie became increasingly difficult.

Jaime’s leg pressed against hers, and the fevered heat of his arm as he rested it against the back of the sofa was distracting. The weight of his hand as it fell on her neck made her shiver as his fingers strummed at her hair.  Brienne squeezed the pillow in her lap and tried to concentrate on Andy Dufrene getting deloused.

By the time Andy received his Marilyn poster from Red, Jaime was out cold.  His hand had dropped from her neck and now his fingers dangled at her collarbone.

How many times had she imagined herself in a situation like this?  Curled up watching a movie she loved with someone she… liked?

That was the thing… Jaime was someone she shouldn’t like. Let alone someone she should have had sex with, _twice._ Something was seriously fucking him up right now.  And she had learned not to trust men with secrets. On top of it all, he honestly was a bit of a dick.

Brienne attempted to remove herself from the couch, doing her best not to disturb him.  She pressed her right palm down on the cushion, lifting herself up slowly, and in response Jaime’s hand tightened its grip. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Brienne gave up and settled back in.

_I’ll get my answers in the morning..._

"Sull'aria" from “The Marriage of Figaro” played, voices soaring over a drab prison yard set in 1940’s Maine. Her favourite part.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Jaime felt small kisses upon his dick. A few teasing licks of her tongue brought him to full erection. She rewarded him by taking him completely in her mouth. Blissfully warm and wet, Jaime let out an exhalation and groan. Brienne worked his cock with her mouth, taking it in deep.  The sensation of her throat closing around the tip bringing him close to orgasm. She pulled away her mouth and gripped his wet cock with her hands, pumping slowly at first then increasing her pace, holding it tighter._

_“Oh god Brienne,” Jaime gasped._

_“Wrong girl, Jaime.”_

_Jaime’s eyes snapped open. Between his legs knelt Cersei, she smiled at him.  Her mouth and hands full of his blood._

Jaime jumped up, his pulse beating in his neck.

He took a deep breath and his rib cage rattled. Suppressing a hacking fit, he surveyed the room.

The orange flames from the fireplace made the room bright, sending shadows flickering up the wall. _Brienne must have made a fire_. He looked around, she had left, and the TV was dark. The wind had picked up again, its howl now accompanied by pellets of ice pattering against the windows.

His shirt clung to his back.  He grabbed the full class of water she had set beside him, drinking it down gratefully. Popping two more Tylenol, and wrapping himself in his blanket he fell back onto the couch and closed his eyes.

 _No more dreams…_ one last plea as he fell back asleep...

_“A woman gathering water found a purple shell on the shore.  It was beautiful, capturing the eye of many. No one in the village had ever seen a shell so beautiful. The woman flaunted it, enjoying the jealousy it incurred in others.  One day she waded out into the waters with her treasure. She had it made into a necklace that she never took it off.”_

_“Is there a point to all this?” Jaime asked bored._

_Tyrion gave a tight smile and continued._

_“The shell had belonged to the Lake Serpent. It had been stolen by a nymph, one that loved to create disorder and strife for the people.  Thinking the woman was the one who had stolen it, the Lake Serpent created a whirlpool, sucking the woman under, drowning her and reclaiming its treasure._

_“That escalated quickly,” Jaime uttered._

_“The point is… if the woman had not been so greedy, proud, and well, a show off, she’d still be alive.  If you don’t own a thing, you cannot lose it, if she had shared with others…”_

_“They’d be the ones drowned?”_

_Tyrion laughed despite himself._

_Tyrion had his books and legends. Jaime much preferred hiking in the woods and fishing in the lake._

_“Are you going to waste your entire summer cooped up in here reading dusty old books?” A sweet mocking voice teased from the doorway._

_“Cersei!” Jaime exclaimed. “We were told you were staying in Europe.”_

_“Sister,” Tyrion said closing his book._

_“Tyrion,” she answered back without a smile, turning her attention to Jaime she beamed. “Let’s go for a swim.” She removed her shirt, revealing a red bikini top._

_Jaime ashamed he was staring a little too long at his twin cleared his throat and averted his eyes, but it was blistering hot and a swim was very appealing, he followed her out of the cabin._

 

 

He lazily blinked open his eyes, immediately registering the ache in his joints and a dull pounding in his head.

The fire had died some. Brienne stretched out on the floor with a book in her hand, several more scattered about her.

On the table she had left him another full glass of water, next to it was a Thermos.

He cleared his throat to catch her attention.

Her eyes met his. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he rasped back.

“Want to try to eat something?”

Jaime nodded.

“I made some soup. I put it in this thing to keep it hot.”

Brienne poured chicken soup into the lid of the Thermos. “Feeling any better?” she asked handing him the cup and a spoon.

Jaime shook his head “no.” He felt weak, his head throbbed, and his fever dreams were fucking up his sleep. He took a sip of the soup. He could barely taste it, but it did burn his tongue.  He winced as he swallowed it down.

“Sorry. Too hot?” Brienne asked.

Jaime gestured with his thumb and pointer finger, the universal sign for “a little.” Blowing on it a bit, he sipped again.

“You have an excellent collection of books here, I’ve been devouring this one.” Brienne held up a familiar green hardcover. _Songs and Legends of Leafy Lake_.

 _What are the odds?_ Jaime thought. “Read me the one about the woman with the sea shell,” he whispered.

“It's a lake,” Brienne answered back.

Antagonized as he was, Jaime feeling weak decided to let it go.

Brienne flipped back a few pages and began, _“ A woman gathering water, found a purple shell on the shore..."_

Jaime slept peacefully for the remainder of the night. And the next two after.

 

On the third morning he was awakened by the sound of wood being split from outside the window.Jaime stumbled with his blanket to watch her.  He felt remarkably better. It was obvious his fever had abated, and the tightness in his chest had lessened. Brienne stood outside with an axe slung over one shoulder. She had cleared a circle around her with a shovel, in the middle was a giant tree stump, and surrounding her were cords of wood.  She raised the axe above her head and brought it down.

The splitting of the log echoed throughout the woods.  Sending winter birds fluttering up and away from the trees.

He could see her huff as she lined up her next victim.  Raising her axe again she brought it down squarely in the center, sending the split log in three directions.

She smiled as she tossed the wood into her pile.

The hired Lannister man did his job diligently.  He kept the house well stocked.  There really wasn’t a need for her to be doing this chore, but she seemed happy.

Many large icicles dangled from the windows, the sun's light lit them up brilliantly, like crystals of a chandelier. Melting water dripped from them slowly.  It was warming up outside and the snow was melting. He knew his time was running out.

 _She will bolt_ , he thought with a resigned and miserable dread.

Gathering up a bundle of wood in her arms, Brienne carried it back towards the house.

He watched her strong legs carve a path through the white banks of snow as she walked, some drifts as high as her thighs.   _She’ll be cold_..  Jaime wondered if he could manage his way down to the kitchen.  Pleased with his newfound energy, Jaime started the kettle in the kitchen and returned to the bedroom briefly to grab something warm and dry for her  to wear.  His grey hoodie was flung on a chair. He grabbed and came back to find her adding to the pile of wood near the fireplace. On her shoulders a few droplets of melted snow were resting like jewels. The sounds of the whistling kettle turned her head towards the kitchen and to him.

“You’re up!” she exclaimed.  Her face had the look of a patchy strawberry, freckled and red with exertion.

“I thought I’d make us something hot to drink.”

“That sounds good.” She afforded him a small smile and nod.

She pulled off her coat and hat.  Her arms looked bigger than his. He wondered what sort of upper body routine she practiced.  Her hair had was plastered flat to her head from the hat she had been wearing. The woman was no beauty by any stretch of the imagination, yet Jaime found another part of himself regaining its strength as well.

“Is that for me?” she asked, gesturing to the grey sweatshirt he was holding in front of him.

Jaime made sure his robe was tied at the front, and handed it to her.

“Hot chocolate or tea?”

 

They sat in a comfortable silence. The icicles hung on the window melted more rapidly, like some damned watery hourglass counting down his doom.

“The roads will be clear soon, if that is any indication,” he offered pointing to the window. He searched her face to see if the news pleased her.

“I’ll take a walk out to the road later, see if it's been plowed.” She betrayed nothing.

“The driveway will be impossible,” he added.

“I could shovel; it's good cardio.”

Jaime thought of throwing the shovel into the woods.

“Maybe tomorrow... one more day to make sure you are well.”

The quiet settled upon them again as they finished their drinks.

“If you don’t mind, I’d love a bath. My bones feel chilled.”

“Help yourself. I got the dishes.”

“You sure? You look shades better, but you really shouldn’t over do it.”

“I’m sure. You’ve been an excellent nurse.”

Brienne tried to hide her smile as she rose from the table.

“The bathroom at the top of the stairs has the largest tub.”

She nodded and left him to sit at the table. He watched the water drip from the trees outside some more.

Upstairs he could hear the sound of rushing water through the houses pipes as Brienne drew her bath. Jaime picked up their cups, rinsed them off and left them in the sink.

 

He stood outside the door, second guessing himself for a moment.  The thought of the look on her face made him grin, giving him the nerve to turn the handle and push open the door.

Her face did not disappoint.

“What are you doing?” Brienne yelled at him, her eyes wide with shock. The tub was large, enough for three people. Or one very large woman and a man.

He didn’t answer her as he untied his robe.

“Jaime!” Brienne crossed her arms, water splashing out on to the floor.

“You’d think we’d have never seen each other naked!” He laughed, turned off the taps, and pulled down his bottoms.

She looked away and said in exasperation, “There are, like four other tubs in this house!” She brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them like a shield.

Ignoring her protestations he climbed in behind her. As he settled in the water nearly went over the brim. The water was not as warm as he expected it to be.  

“Any reason for the cold bath Brienne?” he purred at her ear.

She curled up like a ball, the muscles in her back tense. “I refuse to do this with you,” she hissed.

He ignored her and reached for a large sponge and soap.  He dipped the soap beneath the water and brought it back up, massaging it over her back. Her skin was almost as white and smooth as the tub they sat in. He grasped the floating sponge and squeezed it over her shoulders, watching the water as it flowed over her back, her muscles seemed to relax a bit. Smiling he drew up more water, and did it again. Steam danced up from her shoulders as it caught the light of room.  He dropped both the soap and sponge, his hand free to feel her slick body. He ran his left hand up her throat, pulling her back into his body, and licked his tongue at her earlobe.  His other hand explored beneath the water...

She spun on him suddenly. “I said, I’m not doing this again with you.”

He could feel his fever rising at his neck again… no, it was his temper.

“I can’t be hurt again. Not like with Renly.” Her soft words extinguished his anger completely.

He remembered that night well, and the look on her face.  He didn’t know her then and didn’t really care to yet he had followed her home all the same. Staring at her now, her eyes full of hurt and heartbreak, he felt helpless and desperate to vanquish it. He brushed the side of her cheek with his thumb, then placed his palm at the back of her head to bring her closer to him. She closed her eyes as he pressed his face towards hers. The kiss was a sweet and gentle one. Her hand landed upon his chest, stopping him.

“Jaime… what are you running from?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

“Not now, but I promise soon. Tomorrow morning. We’ll talk. Let me have one more night.”

“I won’t...”

“I know.”

They kissed again.

“Do you want me to leave?”

She bit her lip, then answered quietly, “No.”

Jaime smiled, satisfied for the brief reprieve he had won.

“Let me wash your hair, though, you stink,” she added, reaching for the shampoo.

 

As they wrapped themselves in towels, they could hear the scraping of a snow plow from beyond the north side of the house.

“Well, there goes your cardio,” Jaime said. The man his father had hired to look after the place was doing his job. The lane would be clear, but it didn’t matter. She had promised him one more night. In the morning she could hate him.

“Do you want some dinner? I could fix us something.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he answered as he looked in the mirror running his hand over his chin.

_I need a shave._

“Maybe after we eat, I could destroy you at Scrabble again.”

Her only retort was a heavy wet towel thumping against the side of his head.

He laughed. “I’ll be down in a minute.  Going to take care of this hobo facial hair I’ve got going on.” Jaime pulled open the drawer. A single gold razer. He rolled his eyes. _Typical Tywin Lannister_.

His blood turned cold at the thought of his father.  He had not even considered the nightmare of fury his father was sure to have in store for him.

_If I’m lucky I’ll be able to fly off into oblivion before that day ever has to come._

He carefully glided the razor over his face, rinsed the sink, and went downstairs to see what frozen delight Brienne had managed to scavenge from the freezer.

His legs felt like lead at the sound of a familiar voice coming from the kitchen. One that was _not_ Brienne’s.

He breathed a sigh of relief. The woman in the kitchen had her back to him. Black haired and cropped short. It was not Cersei.

Then she turned. It took a few beats for him to realize that it was, in fact, his sister.

_Am I too late?_

One quick look at Brienne answered his question.

“Is it true?” she asked.

 _Lie_ , he thought for a moment but instead found the words “It was a long time ago,” tumble weakly from his mouth.

“How long ago?”

“Five years,” Cersei answered for him, “For ten years. Off and on”.

Brienne looked like she had a foul taste in her mouth. Her eyes would not meet his. She looked lost as she stared at the floor with a frown.

“Roads are clear,” Cersei offered in a matter-of-fact way.

Jaime could have wrapped his hands around her neck.  The only thing that stopped him was Brienne bolting for the door.

“Jaime let her go…” Cersei called after him as he chased Brienne down the hall.

Jaime ran through the open door, following Brienne outside.  Barefoot and wheezing he took a sharp inhalation, the cold sliced at his lungs sending him into a hacking fit.

Her car, only a few strides away looked like a white cocoon. Brienne used her arm to shove snow from her windshield and jumped inside.

 _Don’t start_. He begged internally.

The car engine started without fail. Brienne threw the car into reverse and circled around to face the driveway’s exit.

Jaime smacked his hand against the side of the passenger door, he fumbled at the handle with his bad hand.  She sped away and he slipped to the ground.  A blinding, splintering pain shot up his legs as his knee caps smashed against the pavement. “FUCK!” he screamed.

He watched her brake lights shine, for a few mere seconds… then she accelerated again.

Her wheels spun for a moment, sending snow spitting before finding traction.

She flew out of the laneway and on to the road beyond the trees. The engine of her car sounded like a dying growl with the distance she put between them.

He slouched down and sat on the icy pavement until the sound died completely. Picking himself up from the ground he hobbled back towards the open doorway of the lake house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely astonished at the support this story has received. I humbly thank you all who have taken time to kudos, comment and bookmark. Like wow. Thank you!
> 
> A big nod goes to my beta Commasplice as always :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coping in Volantis.

_Everything was white--the trees, the snow banks that covered the ground where he knelt, even the sky looked milky. Snow was falling gracefully from the sky, landing in his hair and on his shoulders, Jaime blinked away snowflakes from his eyelashes. The woods were silent, eerily so. His hands trembled; they were freshly scratched and bleeding. He wasn’t sure if they were shaking from the cold or his nerves. Most likely both._

_“Well, you certainly messed that up. I tried to help you, you know,” Tyrion said.  He was sitting on top of a stone well with a well-worn smirk of a know-it-all._

_“You’re dead,” Jaime whispered sadly._

_“Yes.”_

_“Dead,” he whispered again. Jaime looked to where the lake house should have been. Instead he saw only Brienne. Her back was turned to him. He attempted to pick himself up from the ground to go to her.  He couldn’t move. He tried to yell out her name but no sound would come from his mouth._

_He silently screamed at her as she moved away from him, disappearing into the woods._

 

“Kevan… sweetie.” There was a caressing of a finger at the back of Jaime’s ear. It felt good, but the sensation did little to rouse him from his sleep.

“Kevan. Come on.” Her voice was more persistent; she shoved his shoulders a bit with her hands. “You are going to be late!”

Losing his job at the restaurant was not much motivation.

“My boyfriend is going to be returning from his shift soon.”

That did it.

Jaime rubbed at his eyes, rolled his legs to the side of the bed, and searched for his pants.

“Over there beside the window.” Hildy aided him in his search, pointing to where he had tossed them on a whicker chair. She lit a cigarette and blew the swirls of smoke away from her where it danced in the late afternoon light.

“What time is it?”

“You got about an hour.”

“What time are you on tonight?” he asked as he jumped up pulling on the waistband of his pants.

Hildy rolled over to watch him dress, cigarette at her hip, and a crooked smile on her lips. “I’ll be covering Jeyne’s shift tonight.  So see you in a few I guess. Now seriously, get out.”

Jaime grabbed her cigarette and took one satisfying drag. Handing it back, he landed a quick peck on her cheek. “Well, see you later.”

 

Volantis was gorgeous in the spring, the weather was warm and the trees were newly green, the air was sweet and fresh. In the summer the old cobbles would bake in the sun, and the still waters of the canals would stagnate breeding mosquitoes and a various medley of stink. Just thinking about the summers made Jaime ponder another move. He was tired of up heaving himself every year or so, but it was always inevitable. Someone would recognize him, a photograph would be taken, and then a reporter would find a way to his door.  So far Volantis had been a good stop. Eighteen months and he had found a bit of stability.   _If only it wasn’t for the miserable heat of the summer…_

“She’s waited fifteen minutes. Ten more won’t kill her. Besides when she gets what's coming to her tonight, she’ll forgive.”  The ginger in front of him was sharply dressed and seemed quite pleased with himself as he appraised the stalls floral arrangements.  He was also seriously messing up Jaime’s pre-work routine. Jaime looked at his phone to check the time. He was going to be late.  

“This is a lovely one,” the pretty clerk offered, holding up a bouquet of white lilies. “They aren’t quite open yet, so will last a long time.” She had a heavy Volanteese accent.

The man considered them for a moment. “I like the red ones, the roses. Classic.”

A decision finally made, Jaime whispered a “finally,” under his breath. He could order his daily bagel and coffee and get to work.

The woman wrapped the man's flowers.

“Ring. Flowers. Really fucking expensive restaurant. This one is in the bag.” He winked at the clerk, took his flowers under his arm, and whistled while he strolled away.

“The usual?” The girl gave Jaime a large smile as she curled a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for the wait. That guy couldn’t make up his mind. I’m thankful you came, he kept asking me to pull out the bouquets at the bottom. Pervert.” She blushed suddenly. “Sorry. I know you’re in a hurry. Coffee’s on the house.”

Taking the complimentary coffee from her, Jaime offered an “in-the-air’ cheers of gratitude. He took a seat on a nearby park bench where he had left his bike resting. He unwrapped his bagel and scarfed it down quickly. Blowing on his hot coffee, he tried to think of a new excuse for being late.

His phone vibrated. Looking down he saw it was a message from Hildy--an image file. Jaime clicked it open. She was standing by her window, topless and blowing him a kiss. _She is getting too attached_. He'd need to cut it off with her. One stupid drunken decision after work three weeks ago, and now he was feeling the need to untangle. Jaime took one quick sip and tossed the remaining coffee and half of his bagel into the trash can.  Settling on his bike with his bag bouncing off his back, Jaime pedaled to work.

 

“You’re lucky,” Gerry tossed an apron at Jaime’s face as he came into the back entrance of the restaurant.  

Jaime was quick and caught the apron, although the ties still managed to smack him in the eye. “How's that?” Jaime asked as he hung his messenger bag up, and tied the apron around his waist.

“Dickhead is late.”

Dickhead being the affectionate name the kitchen staff had coined for the head manager.

“Excellent,” Jaime muttered as he pushed through the doors into the restaurant where he immediately ran into Dickhead.

“Kevan!” Dickhead exclaimed. “I need you sharp today. Got into an accident on the way in, so I’m late and need help tonight.  I see we still have time. You're going to need to focus, OK? Big spender reserved table three tonight.”

“I’ll try my very best,” Jaime replied, realizing he was not doing a fantastic job of hiding his lack of enthusiasm.

“It's a surprise engagement. He’s asked that as soon as the girl says ‘yes’ we are to bring out the champagne. Take this.” Dickhead shoved a heavy bottle of alcohol into his hands, the top covered in gold foil. “Chill it for exactly ten minutes." Dickhead held up both hands, ten fingers wiggling. "Not a second more. Do you understand?”

“Could you explain that again? It’s a rather complicated plan.”

To his astonishment his manager failed to pick up on the sarcasm and he repeated his instructions at a slightly slower tempo.

Jaime’s eyes glazed over in boredom. As his manager continued to recount his instructions, Jaime glanced over to where their “best” table sat by the window. The view beyond was cobbled streets, an intricately carved water fountain at the center of the court, surrounded by charming two-hundred year old buildings. When the sun set the streets would be illuminated by thousands of twinkling white lights. A picture for a travel brochure.

A tall blonde woman pulled out her chair and took a seat at the table. Jaime squinted in disbelief. Brienne leaned her face on the palm of her hand as she spent a moment to admire the scenery outside. She was wearing a fitted dark blue dress that looked expensive and tailored. He'd never seen her look better. She moved her purse to the chair beside her and picked up the drink menu. She frowned for a moment and her forehead crinkled as she tried to decide on what to have.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty. Get to work!” His manager pushed him towards her table.

Half disgusted with himself Jaime heard the words, “The Dornish red is quite good,” escape from his lips.

Brienne glanced up at him. As recognition dawned, she went pale. It took her a second or two but she managed, “What are you doing here?”

“Working. What are you…” He stopped mid sentence, feeling like an idiot. It suddenly dawned on him what was about to transpire.

He pulled out his notepad and pen and asked, “What would the lady care for?”

She averted her gaze for a moment, looking back stone-faced she replied, “The red sounds nice.” She unfolded her napkin and smoothed it out on her lap, folded up her drink menu, and looked outside. He was dismissed.

Jaime ordered her wine from the bar, went into the back and chilled her celebratory champagne. He looked at the back door, thinking of how easy it would be to slide out into the alley, jump on his bike and take off.  Instead he turned back to the restaurant grabbed Brienne’s drink order and set it down on the crisp white linen table cloth.

Brienne’s ring-less left hand slid the glass from the edge of the table to the safety of the center. “Thank you.”

"Could I get you an appetizer?" Jamie asked.

“Jaime, I came back.”

Her words were quiet, almost apologetic, and they seared right through him. He cleared his throat and went through the list of appetizers.

“I just wanted you to know."

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied.

She turned her face upwards. Eyes like blue steel. Challenging. “I haven't seen or heard from you in three years and this is how you want it to be?"

Not knowing what else to offer he said, “I saw your games. You were a force.”

Her expression didn’t change, but a pink flush began to creep up her throat. She reached for her glass and took a healthy sip.

“Have you thought of me at all?” he asked.

“Some.”

Jaime waited for more, but her monosyllabic answer was all she would offer.

“Your manager doesn’t look happy.”

Jaime ignored her. “Don't you think it's strange?” All the places you could be having dinner, and it's here? Where I work? Half way across the world.”

“I had no idea, if that is what you are implying. Ronnie picked this place.”

Jaime gave an annoyed snort.

“Kevan. Get to work,” his boss hissed in his ear as he brushed by him to greet a perfectly coiffed couple entering the restaurant.

“Kevan?” Brienne asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t think I could function all my life as Jaime Lannister the Sister Fucker now do you?”

Brienne nearly spit out her wine.

“I mean it. Table six. _Now_!”

Jaime left her to attend to the other tables he had been neglecting.

 

It had easily been an hour and a half. He had filled her glass three times, and the third was nearly drained. Brienne looked at her phone, then out the window.  The sky was fading in the west, the blue shadows outside grew longer, and the sky was a deep orange blaze.

Jaime played with the idea of joining her on his break. _Dickhead would love that..._

Jaime recognized the well-dressed redheaded man from the as he settled in at table three. He didn’t seem apologetic, more like irritated as he plopped his phone down on the table. Settling into his chair he put his right hand in the air and gave two crisp snaps. He looked in Jaime’s direction and motioned for him to serve.

Glad he was due his first break, Jaime ignored him and decided instead to head out back and have a cigarette.  On his way out he nicked the bottle of champagne from its ice bucket, dropped it into his bag, slung it over his shoulder and pushed his bike down the alley towards the street.

He ran into Hildy as he was turning onto the sidewalk.

“Hey!”

“You’re early,” he remarked absently.

“I heard you guys were slammed, so I got called in. Where you going?”

“I’m done.”

Ignoring her questions, Jaime continued on across the street, he perched his bike up against the chocolatier's shop directly across from her window. Jaime lit up his cigarette and watched.

Brienne and the big redheaded goofball were perfectly framed. He seemed to be yammering on about something. Probably a lengthy narrative of the ‘shit day’ he’s had, a recounting of all the inconveniences he’s had to suffer, so for her to feel sore at him would be just piling on.

Jaime took a drag of his cigarette and eyed Brienne’s face. Polite obligatory nods to her boyfriend interrupted by quick glances into the interior of the restaurant.

Jaime smiled at the thought of Dickhead freaking out about the room temperature champagne he would soon be forced to serve.

Jaime’s smile disappeared as he noticed “Red” fishing into his pocket. While Brienne was looking away he quickly opened the box and set it the table before her.

Her mouth dropped open slightly.

The man looked incredibly pleased with himself. Borderline smug.

Jaime’s smile returned as her mouth formed a clearly distinct, “no.”

The man stared at her blankly, then an almost mystified expression crept over his pink face.

Brienne spoke, her hands making placating gestures.

Whatever she said did her little good. The jilted boyfriend grabbed her bouquet of red roses from the table in an angry gesture, upsetting her wine glass in the process. Brienne jumped up from the table, her wine had splattered across her dress, ruining it. The splotch of purpled-red looked almost like a wound.

Jaime could never have fathomed the concept of Brienne Tarth as ‘vulnerable’ but vulnerable she looked.  The redhead screamed at her, spittle flying from his mouth. Inside the people of the restaurant turned to see the drama playing out before them. Brienne looked mortified as she gathered up her purse and ran towards the exit of the restaurant.

Jaime went to meet her.

 

The red-headed sod was right behind her, following her out of the restaurant to the side walk, bouquet in hand.  His face like a bright little beet as he kept screaming at her.

“How dare you embarrass me like that?” he demanded. He hurled the bouquet at Brienne, the flowers smacking her in the face.  

Jaime hit him so hard the man stumbled back against the restaurant's windows. Red fell to the sidewalk holding his jaw. The restaurant's windows were cracked. From inside he could see the patrons staring mouth opened and wide eyed.  Some were on their phones, probably calling the police.

“Apologize,” Jaime said through gritted teeth.  He hoped the man would fight back; there was nothing Jaime would love better than the chance to take another swing at him again.  

The man sat on the sidewalk, his back slumped against the wall.  He rubbed at the blood trickling down into his beard and mumbled dumbly, “I think you broke my jaw.”

“Now,” Jaime demanded

“Who the fuck is this?” Her date looked to Brienne with a puzzled outrage.

“His name is Jaime,” Brienne offered. She looked almost as stunned as her dinner companion.

“Well are you going to just stand _there_?!” he demanded of her.

Jaime knew he couldn't stay here long. He could feel his adrenaline abating, and as it did the searing pain of the damage he’d done to his hand started to register. He cradled his hand against his chest.

“No,” Brienne finally answered.  “We need to get you to a hospital.”

Jaime grimaced, and turned away from them. He felt her hand on his shoulder, firm and gentle.

“I’ll hail us a taxi.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” came the reply from the man on the ground.

Brienne ignored him, walked to the curb and put her arm straight into the air.

A cab pulled up, and Brienne opened the door for him.  Jaime got in, he hissed in pain as the movement jostled his arm. Brienne slid in next to him. Red sat on the ground. Jaime gave him a salute as they pulled away.

Jaime threw his head back, shut his eyes and cursed every pot hole the tires of the cab managed to roll into.

“In my bag is chilled champagne,” he said finally breaking their silence. “You think you can manage?”

Brienne dug into his canvas bag, retrieving the bottle.

“It was to be my celebration for eliminating you from my life.”

She looked uncomfortable, but ignored his statement, instead she offered the bottle to him, putting it against his hand.

Jaime gave a small laugh. "No, no. Not for my hand. Think you can open it?"

Brienne twisted the cork out and handed it to him. Jaime took a big swig and offered it to her.

To his surprise Brienne took it and had a few healthy sips.

The events of the night had made her cheeks flush, and her eyes were bright. He hadn't felt quite so alive in years. _Adrenaline_ , he supposed.  The shadows from the street played across her face as the cab made its journey to the hospital.  

Her eyes flashed to his, a bright and steady gaze, then she peered out the window, her attention flickering to the darkening sky outside. “Looks like we’re in for some rain.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I wrote folks.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who did all those good things - subscribe, bookmark, kudos and especially comment. Encouragement like this is truly the fuel for any fanfic writer.  
> A gigantic thank you to Commasplice for being my beta reader, and putting up with many, many, many commas. :)
> 
> I would like to give a nod to Mikki who basically challenged me to write a modau in the first place. This story would not have happened if she didn't. I can't promise I'll ever do it again. But I guess 'never say never'.
> 
> In the meantime if you are so inclined feel free to check out some of my other stuff - It's all canon-ish :D


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